


Howl

by akat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 84,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akat/pseuds/akat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy was supposed to be retired, and yet here she was, traipsing through the English countryside, hot on the trail of a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crossed Wires

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or Harry Potter.  
> Spoilers: BtVS through Season 7. HP through Book 7, though not epilogue-compliant (I believe the term is EWE?).  
> Timeline: Takes place just after Buffy series finale. 
> 
> A/N: This will be about 18 chapters long, 10 of which are already written. I'll post new chapters on a weekly basis and continue writing in the meantime, so hopefully there will be no gaps in update time!

  
[](http://s647.photobucket.com/user/akat78/media/8b71482f-46df-403b-84e5-9c0cc10ad36a_zpszdswjdpd.jpg.html)

+++

If someone had told Buffy a few years ago that, when given the opportunity to walk away from slaying once and for all, she wouldn't, she would've seriously questioned their sanity. And yet here she was, traipsing through the English countryside, hot on the trail of a werewolf.

Clearly, it was her own sanity that was in question.

She had known it the second she eavesdropped on that conversation about strange dog attacks in Devon –  _while_  she was sitting in Trafalgar Square, cappuccino in hand, less than three weeks into her retirement, no less. The fact that she had had her bags packed and her ticket booked twenty minutes after that only confirmed it.

At least, that was what she had tried to tell herself. It was easier than admitting anything else.

If only her insanity defense didn't have so many gaping holes in it.

For while she could rationalize away the rush of adrenaline she had felt when she realized that what the locals were calling a 'yeth hound' was actually a werewolf, it was a lot harder to do so the second time around, when she had discovered a pattern to the werewolf's movements.

Which meant that it was next to impossible to explain the way she felt now, as she stood on the edges of the forest with nothing but a tranquilizer gun, a little silver, and her own skill, yet somehow feeling more alive than she had in ages.

Buffy shifted uncomfortably on her feet, not liking the direction her thoughts were headed at all. Thankfully, she was spared from any unwanted epiphanies a second later.

There was a flicker of a shadow deep within the trees, one that was distinctly human shaped, one that made her senses stand on end – and one that was moving away from her.

Buffy plunged into the woods in pursuit without a second thought, moving as quickly as she could in an effort to catch up. It soon became painfully apparent, however, that it was a losing battle. He was moving really fast, and that was on top of the good lead he already had. After a few minutes, she couldn't even catch glimpses of his shadow. The only thing she had to go on was the faint sounds he made as he ran away.

Still, with single-minded determination, she picked up her pace – and almost fell face first into a surprisingly sizable stream as a result.

Barely stifling a yelp, Buffy quickly backpedaled as she eyed the unexpected obstacle; or more specifically, the steep, muddy bank and thirty feet of water that stood between her and the other side.

Then she sighed in resignation, slung her tranquilizer gun over her back – careful not to tangle it in her necklace – and quickly, if a bit messily, navigated her way down the bank.

She supposed it was a little risky just taking a tranquilizer gun, but she was really reluctant to pull out the heavy artillery until she knew the werewolf was a real threat. While she obviously didn't condone the killing of poor, innocent sheep, it just didn't rate. It was the same reason why she hadn't contacted the others for help. Well, that and the fact that she was taking an indefinite break from them.

But that was another subject she didn't want to think about, so she quickly locked those thoughts away with the other unwanted ones and concentrated instead on making her way across the water, leaping from rock to rock until she made it to the other side.

Once there, she stopped for a moment to take stock of the situation. The good news was that although the hem of her leather pants had taken a beating, she hadn't fallen in. The bad news was that she couldn't even hear the werewolf anymore.

Buffy hesitated. She could try to chase after him, but it was risky. He was heading deeper into the woods, and a junior ranger she was not. On the other hand, it had taken her three days just to catch a glimpse of him. Although the werewolf had only attacked livestock so far, the full moon was next week. She needed to catch him well before that time, before something was done that couldn't be  _un_ done.

That decided it. Buffy quickly set off further into the woods.

She traveled another whole mile before she heard it; a noise that didn't belong in the forest, one that made all the other noises suddenly quiet.

It was him. And he was practically sprinting right toward her. Whether it was because he had figured out she was following him, or she had unknowingly gotten turned around, she didn't know.

What she  _did_  know was that she had to take cover, and quick.

After a hasty assessment of her options, Buffy ducked behind some dense shrubbery; although a tree was obviously more solid, the bushes would provide much better coverage for both her and more importantly, the barrel of her gun, which was almost invisible as it poked out through the leaves.

Then she waited.

At first, she didn't sense anything amiss. She just continued to scan the perimeter, waiting for him to appear. Then the sounds got closer and closer, but still, she didn't see anything.

That's when she knew something was wrong.

Suddenly tense, Buffy squinted so hard into the darkness she thought her eyes might fall out. Still, it took a whole minute before she finally saw the faintest shadow of a person less than fifty feet away – right before it disappeared.

Buffy would have been worried, except that in that glimpse, she also noticed that he was crossing in front of her instead of coming at her, as if he had no idea she was there.

Knowing better than to question her luck, she immediately took aim, a little bit ahead of the werewolf to take into account his speed and trajectory. Then she pulled the trigger.

Unfortunately, his own senses finally seemed to kick in just then. Just as the dart left the gun, Buffy heard him stop in his tracks and curse. Then she saw the slightest flutter in the air, as if he had spun around in her direction.

Buffy watched in irritation as the dart passed harmlessly through some bushes. She couldn't sulk about it too much, though; she had to concentrate on the jet of orange light that suddenly appeared from his direction, heading straight for her.

Though Buffy scrambled to her feet, she knew she wasn't going to get out of the way in time. Her only option was to hold the tranq gun in front of her as a makeshift shield.

It was a good thing she did. As soon as the orange light hit the gun, it blasted into smithereens, leaving her clutching nothing more than the ruined barrel as she flew backward from the impact.

Buffy twisted as she hit the ground, using the momentum to roll to her feet, just as another jet of light – this one red in color – raced toward her.

This time, she was able to dive behind the closest tree. As she did, she heard her attacker shout.

"What's the matter, Greyback? Too afraid to come out and fight like a wizard, you bloody bastard!"

Buffy frowned. He thought she was someone named Greyback? Who the heck was that? And just how many people were tromping around the forest in the dead of night?

Then the second half of his sentence sunk in and she had to bite back a groan. He was a wizard – for if she remembered correctly, those who didn't use wands for magic were called warlocks, while those who did were called wizards (and no, she would never tell Giles that she had actually listened to boring lecture on the different kinds of magic users). From the way his magic came at her, it made sense, too.

Buffy's frown grew deeper. Was this even the guy she was looking for, or did she just make a colossal mistake? And yet she could've sworn he had sensed her presence right as she fired the dart at him. Was that because he was a werewolf or because he was a wizard? And did one necessarily cancel out the other?

Buffy shook her head. There were too many unanswered questions, and they were distracting her. There was someone out there, someone who was invisible and who currently had a long-range advantage on her, which meant she needed to take away his wand. She could worry about the rest after that.

She quickly formulated a plan. It was a little risky, but she didn't have much choice given the situation. Also, she was kind of curious to see what he would do once he realized that she wasn't this 'Greyback'.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy closed her eyes and listened as best she could to pinpoint where he was. He was moving again, but very slowly, and very cautiously. That was fine with her.

Buffy snapped her eyes open and darted from her tree to another one about twenty feet away.

She heard him start to shout again, some spell most likely. It died in his throat the second he caught sight of her, though.

It didn't escape her notice that no jets of light came her way, either.

"Who the fuck are you?" he exclaimed in a very masculine, very British, very surprised voice, just as she made it to the safety of the trunk.

"I could ask you the same question, Mr. Wizard," she shot back.

He made another sound of surprise at this, and Buffy seized her opportunity. She stepped out from her hiding spot and rushed him, dodging behind trees and shrubs to help provide cover as she ran.

She heard him swear again. Then, after a noticeable pause, he sent another jet of light her way.

That was fine with her. Now she knew exactly where he  _and_  his wand were.

Easily ducking his attack, Buffy drew her arm back and launched the broken barrel of the tranquilizer gun at him, putting more emphasis on accuracy than on force. Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going to have one heck of a bruise in the morning.

Sure enough, she heard his yelp of pain a second later, followed by the sight of his wand flying backward through the air.

And then suddenly she could see him.

He was young, probably just a few years older than her; tall, too, and totally rocking the rock star vibe with his long red hair and earring, even as he cradled his arm in obvious pain.

He also had a very distinct set of scars going down the side of his face, one that looked like they were made by claws.

Buffy narrowed her eyes and ran even faster.

It was almost comical the way his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. And when he put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, she almost felt bad. 'Almost' being key.

"Bloody hell, woman! Will you just—"

His words were abruptly cut off as Buffy put her shoulder down and did her best impression of... well, some famous football player tackling another football player.

As soon as they hit the ground, Buffy was already scrambling to her feet, racing for his wand. Not that she needed to rush. While she hadn't hit him nearly as hard as she could have – again – it was enough to knock the wind out of him.

As she watched him lie there gasping for breath, Buffy leaned against a tree, absently twirling the wand between her fingers like a baton. She began thinking of ways she could ask him if he was a werewolf – without being too obvious or give away too much, just in case he wasn't the one she was looking for.

Unfortunately, the guy was tough. He started to push himself to his feet less than a minute later. At that point, the best Buffy had come up with was, 'hey, don't you hate it when you go to sleep and wake up with wool in your teeth'?

Yep, she sucked at this kind of thing, always had and probably always would.

Deciding that actions spoke louder than words, she stopped spinning the wand and quickly undid the clasp of her necklace – her  _silver_  crucifix. Then, just as the guy finally straightened up, she tossed it to him.

"Heads up!"

Instinctively, he caught it, his eyebrows immediately drawing together in confusion as he stared at the object in his hand. Then he looked up at her, her necklace gripped so tightly in his fist, his knuckles had gone white.

She held her breath and waited, searching for any signs of pain or even just acknowledgement. What she saw was a whole lot of offended with a healthy dose of anger.

"You're looking for him," he said stiffly.

"Huh?" Buffy replied, momentarily thrown off by his response. Then it hit her. "Do you mean 'Greyback'? Is  _he_  a werewolf?"

For some reason, that made his face turn red, so red it almost matched his hair. "Is he a— Who is—" he sputtered angrily. "Really, you Yanks are unbelievable. I know the lot of you are terribly disorganized  _at best_  – which is why none of you lifted a finger to help us during the last war – but honestly! Don't you think it's at least good to sense to know You-Know-Who's most ardent Death Eaters, particularly those who evaded capture after the Battle of Hogwarts?"

Then he let out another string of curses, one that would have even made Spike blush.

Buffy frowned. "What's with all the swearing? Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

That stopped him in his tracks. "Out of everything I just said,  _that's_  what you choose to focus on? My cursing?"

Buffy shrugged. "It's the only part I understood. Seriously, what do warts have to do with a war? Is it a British thing or a Wizard thing?"

"A—" he said with a frown. Then his face paled, which was pretty miraculous considering how red it was just a second ago. "You're a Muggle."

"I am not," she said hotly. "Wait, what's a 'Muggle'?"

But he wasn't listening. He was too busy pacing back and forth in what looked like an impressive panic attack.

"Shite! You're a Muggle! But... how? You obviously know about us – and werewolves, I might add – and you saw through my Disillusionment Charm, so I just thought..." he muttered to himself. "I'll be sanctioned for this... or worse. They'll lock me up in St. Mungo's. They already think I'm a bit of a lunatic as of late—"

"Gee, I don't know why," Buffy interjected.

She received a dirty look in return.

"Well, you're mental, too, if you think you can go after him by yourself," he said, his voice so annoyingly arrogant, she felt the urge to stick her tongue at him.

Instead, she just gave him her brightest smile. "I guess I'll see you in St. Muddo's then."

"Mungo's," he corrected before he caught himself.

She just shrugged. "If you say so," she said. She pushed herself off the tree and turned around to leave.

"You can't leave with my wand!" he exclaimed, and she could hear the panic in his voice.

Buffy turned back around. "Right," she said sarcastically. "I'll just give you your weapon back. You know, the one you attacked me with just a few minutes ago."

"Only because you attacked me first," he pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but that's beside the point," she retorted.

He frowned. "Why?"

She scowled right back and put her hands on her hips for good measure. "Because I said so."

"Because you— oh, never mind," he said, obviously exasperated as he ran a hand over his face. Then he peeked up at her, a hopeful look on his face. "What if I promise I won't use it against you?"

Buffy snorted before she could stop herself. "Because no one's ever broken a promise before."

This made him throw his hands up in frustration. "Believe me, you do not want anyone to find you in possession of a wand. The authorities take that kind of thing quite seriously."

He seemed really sincere and  _really_  worried. And yet, all Buffy could think was that they had 'authorities'. Giles hadn't mentioned  _that_  (or had he?).

Either way, she was dying to ask about it, but she resisted. Instead she said, "First tell me who Greyback is."

He didn't answer; he just crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. She knew that look very well, though usually Dawn was the one giving it.

Buffy rolled her eyes. She didn't have time for this.

"Whatever," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "At least I have a name now. That's more than I had ten minutes ago."

Still, she didn't make an effort to leave, unsure what she should do about his wand. Call her jaded, but she had some serious trust issues lately. Handing it back to him seemed stupid. On the other hand, she had no use for it, and he really did seem serious about causing trouble if she took it. Heck, if it wasn't for the aforementioned trust issues, she might have even considered working together, since it seemed like they were on the same side...

Buffy sighed. "Fine, you can your wand back. Then we'll part ways and pretend this never happened."

The relief on his face was visible. "Fine by me."

Very slowly, she walked toward him. When she was about two feet away, she stopped and extended the wand out to him with one hand. As he took it from her, she socked him in the jaw with the other.

He crumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap.

This time, Buffy really did feel bad, but hey, she had a werewolf to find.

+++

A/N: Next up, Bill's POV!


	2. Howl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The title of this chapter is in reference to, and inspired by, the Florence + the Machine song.

+++

  
  
Bill Weasley was not having a good day. For that matter, he wasn’t having a good week or month or year. In fact, life had been pretty bloody awful for longer than he cared to admit. Yet it should have been the happiest time of his life.  
  
You-Know-Who had long been defeated, his family was finally finding some normalcy, along with the rest of the Wizarding World, and Bill himself had had everything he wanted.   
  
Then Fleur had gone and left him.  
  
He wanted to be angry with her, and, even though quite some time had passed since she left, perhaps part of him still was. Discovering that she wanted children -- just not with him, due to his ‘condition’ -- had definitely left its mark.   
  
In end, however, he couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault that there was something inside him that clawed to get out, something that made him darker, more  _animalistic_  than the man she had fallen in love with.  
  
Yes, Bill cursed the day Fenrir Greyback had mauled him, not quite turning him into a werewolf but forever changing him nonetheless.  
  
Oh, it had all started off well and good. They’d all had a good laugh about his craving for rare steak in the beginning. But then additional changes had come, ones that weren’t nearly as humorous; the way his senses had sharpened, creating more than a few embarrassing situations until he realized what was happening, and even worse, the way his behavior had changed, where Bill suddenly found himself acting more aggressively, more moodily, especially before a full moon.   
  
He had tried to repress it all as best he could, but Fleur simply couldn’t take it anymore.   
  
After she had left, he had drawn inward, isolating himself from friends and family, leaving Shell Cottage only for work. He had done a fair job of it, too, until two weeks ago when he had received an owl with nothing but a bit of wool wrapped in parchment, which itself was blank except for the word ‘Woolacombe’ written on it.  
  
At first, Bill had thought George was having a bit of fun, particularly when both items had burst into flames soon after he had opened them. When he realized that wasn’t the case, he immediately put in for an extended holiday from Gringotts and went to the seaside town to investigate.  
  
That was when he had learned about the wild dog attacks, and in that moment, he  _knew_.   
  
Greyback was alive, and he wanted Bill to know it.   
  
They had never found the blasted wolf’s body after the Battle of Hogwarts. Bill had thought nothing of it at the time; many witches and wizards had been lost and never recovered, and there were witnesses who had seen the Death Eater fall. As he stood in Woolacombe, however, he knew differently.   
  
Bill had immediately notified the Ministry, of course, but after investigating his claim and finding absolutely no trace of magic in Woolacombe, they had politely informed him that Greyback was most certainly dead and to please stop making inquiries to the contrary, as it could create an unnecessary panic.   
  
Bill’s family hadn’t believed him, either, though no one had said it outright. He could see it in their eyes; they thought he was obsessed with a bogeyman he could never catch as a way to cope with his own problems.   
  
Even Bill had to admit, it all sounded far-fetched. The attacks on livestock were out of character for Greyback, and his only other evidence had literally gone up in flames. Still, he knew he was right, so he continued to search on his own.   
  
Tonight was the closest he had gotten. Tonight, for the first time, he had picked up Greyback’s scent.  
  
It was the reason why he had raced half-mad through the forest. Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on running smack into some blonde bird. Or  _her_ running into him.  
  
Bill grimaced as he rubbed his sore ribs.   
  
Merlin, she had been strong, surprisingly so for someone so small. A right pain in the arse, too.  
  
And now he had to take time from his pursuit of Greyback and go after her instead.  
  
Bill quickly got to his feet and scooped up his wand, which he was relieved to find lying close by. His body groaned in protest at the sudden movement, but he simply ignored it. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she had coldcocked him; what he did know was that he needed to do damage control before it was too late.  
  
Of course, to do that, he had to find her find first.   
  
Magic was obviously out of the question, as he had nothing he could use to locate her, not even her name. That left him only one option.   
  
Closing his eyes, Bill breathed in deeply, trying to pick out her scent amongst all the others in the forest. He had repressed this part of himself for too long, however, and he couldn’t find it, not right away.   
  
Bill felt his temper begin to rise, but he simply pushed it down and tried harder.   
  
After a few long minutes, he finally found it. Feeling pleased with himself, he set off on the girl’s trail. Despite the fact that he was severely out of practice -- and that it felt a little too much like hunting for his own comfort -- he managed to follow her scent quite successfully until he reached a small clearing. Here, her scent went in two different directions.  
  
Momentarily thrown, Bill came to a stop as he tried to figure out what it meant.  
  
“You  _are_  a werewolf.”  
  
Bill whirled around toward the voice, his wand at the ready. It was the girl, leaning against a tree not twenty feet away.  
  
“What? No!” he exclaimed.  
  
“Right,” she said slowly. “So you weren’t just scenting me then.”  
  
Bill noticed the way she eyed his scars as she spoke, and he felt himself flush with embarrassment and anger.   
  
“I was marked by a werewolf. That doesn’t mean I am one. I will admit, however, that I may have developed some of their abilities.”  
  
He tried to leave the bitterness out, but by the look on her face, he had failed quite spectacularly. Her demeanor instantly changed.   
  
“Why all the self-loathing?” she asked curiously. “Maybe it’s not ideal, but it could be a lot worse. I mean, you’re already a wizard. I’d think it would be no big.”  
  
Bill’s lips curled up in a sneer. “Right. Because being shunned by society is bloody fantastic,” he replied. “Because  _you’re_  looking for Greyback to invite him for some tea.”  
  
That seemed to irritate her.   
  
“As long as I know a werewolf isn’t going to kill and maim innocent people, we’re good. And for your information, one of my friends is a werewolf, so don’t you get all judgy on me.”  
  
Bill raised his eyebrows at that. “‘Judgy’? Is that an American thing or a Muggle thing?” he asked, purposefully echoing her words earlier that evening.  
  
She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “It’s a word. And while we’re on the topic, what is a Muggle anyway?”  
  
Bill hesitated, weighing his options.  
  
He could’ve tried to Obliviate her right then and there. He had seen how fast she moved, though, and he couldn’t run the risk that she would escape again. And while she seemed relaxed at the moment, he suspected otherwise; and now she had the added advantage of a tree for quick cover.   
  
No, his best bet would be to stun her first. That spell took considerably less finesse and precision, allowing him to move as quickly as he could without the fear of permanently damaging her memory in his haste. To do that, however, he would need to get her guard down a little.   
  
While, he was reluctant to share any part of the Wizarding world with her, for obvious reasons, answering her question might give him the opportunity he was looking for. Besides, if he were successful, he could tell her the entire history of magic and she wouldn’t remember a thing.  
  
His mind made up, he nodded in acquiescence. “Muggle is our word for a non-magic person.”  
  
For some reason, that made her laugh. “Really? ‘Muggle’ is the best you can come up with? That doesn’t sound very PC to me. Not like, oh say, magically challenged or persons with magical disabilities or hey, maybe even non-magically gifted.”  
  
Bill shook his head, though his lips twitched with humor despite himself. “Are you always this maddening?”  
  
“So they tell me,” she said, suddenly quite solemn, though he could still see the laughter dancing in her eyes. “So, why were you following me?”  
  
The shift in topics was startling. He thought she had done it on purpose, to catch him off guard. It almost worked, too. Bill had certainly felt off-balance the entire night. Thankfully, though, his head was on a bit straighter now. It also didn’t hurt that he had years of experience dealing with his mum and the tactics she used to get information out of him.   
  
The trick wasn’t in coming up with a fantastic lie. In fact, he always told the truth; the trick was in deciding which part of it to tell.   
  
“To stop you from going after Greyback. He’ll tear you to shreds,” he said honestly.  
  
Though it looked as though she believed his sincerity, she didn’t seem to take his warning very seriously. “Well, you can’t, either.”  
  
Bill frowned. “Oh, really?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Sure, you may be big with the magic, but your instincts suck,” she said frankly. “If Greyback is as big and bad as you’re implying, you don’t stand a chance against him out here on his own turf. I mean, you couldn’t even beat me.”  
  
From the way she batted her eyelashes at him, Bill got the distinct impression she was baiting him, or maybe testing him. For the first time that evening, however, he used his head and ignored it. Instead, he let the old Bill Weasley take control -- the one who could engage a woman in conversation without antagonizing her.  
  
“Well, that’s because it’s just bad manners to hit a girl, let alone beat her into a bloody pulp, even if she has no such reservations,” he pointed out good-naturedly.  
  
She grinned. “What can I say? I’m a hit first, ask questions later kind of girl.”  
  
He winced, a hand touching his bruised jaw. “I noticed. Apparently, you also have no qualms leaving me unconscious and defenseless in the middle of the woods with a werewolf on the loose.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” she said, fidgeting uncomfortably and moving away from the tree in the process.  
  
He seized his opportunity.   
  
“I’m sorry, too.”  
  
She cocked her head to the side. “For what?”  
  
“This,” Bill said. “ _Stupefy._ ”  
  
She gave a start, but before she could move out of the way, the spell hit her square in the chest.   
  
The effect was almost instantaneous. She was on the ground in an unconscious heap a moment later.   
  
Bill sighed as he walked over to her.  
  
“I really am sorry,” he murmured. Then he pointed his wand at her. “ _Oblivi--_ ”  
  
Before he could finish the spell, her eyes snapped open. At the same time, her legs swung out, knocking into his and sending him flying onto his backside. Then, before he could fully comprehend what was happening, she was on top of him, using her legs to pin his arms to his sides while her arm went to his neck in a decidedly less than friendly manner. The look she gave him was rather hostile and, dare he say, hurt?  
  
Flustered, Bill tried to throw her off, but she was immovable. It was rather embarrassing. Not to mention utterly mystifying.  
  
Modesty aside, he knew he packed a wallop as far as stunning spells went. That Stupefy should’ve knocked her out cold. And yet she had not only recovered from it in record time but was now holding him down like he was a helpless Flobberworm. He knew from their earlier run-in that she was strong, but this was unnatural.   
  
“Are you part troll or something?” he asked, blurting out the first thing that popped into his mind.   
  
It did not go over well.  
  
“Troll? TROLL? You think I’m a troll?” she exclaimed, obviously offended. Then she leaned toward him and pressed a little harder on his neck. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t finish what I started.”  
  
Bill, unfortunately, had nothing. Still, seeing as he didn’t fancy getting pummeled into unconsciousness again, he had to give it a go.  
  
“Because I was trying to protect you?” he offered. “I was just going to erase your memory of me and of Greyback.”  
  
She blinked, taken aback by his response. “That’s almost... noble. If you’re telling the truth, and if, you know, you hadn’t lied to me and attacked me, all so you could violate my mind.”  
  
Bill cringed. It sounded pretty awful when she worded it that way. “You’re not going to hit me again, are you?” he asked.  
  
“Do I need to?”  
  
He quickly shook his head. “No,” he stated firmly. Then because he was deep in it already, he added a little cheekily, “Of course, I didn’t think you needed to the first two times, either.”  
  
For a moment, the sides of her mouth twitched, as if she were going to smile. It quickly faded, however, and her brows knitted together in irritation.  
  
Bill closed his eyes, fully expecting to get knocked into unconsciousness once again. To his immense surprise, he felt her weight lift off of him. When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into empty space.  
  
Slightly confused, he picked up his head and saw her standing a few feet away, his wand once again in her possession. Though she kept her eye on him as he got to his feet, she didn’t appear to be angry anymore. If anything, she looked conflicted.  
  
“Who are you?” he asked, unable to help himself.  
  
That seemed to snap her out of it. “Oh come on. You honestly don’t think I’m going to answer that, do you?”   
  
It was a fair point. Still, he wasn’t going to give up. He would figure it out on his own if he had to; he hadn’t been Head Boy for nothing.  
  
He quickly began cataloging everything he had learned about her in their two brief encounters; her appearance, her silver crucifix, her unbelievable strength and agility, her insane desire to track a werewolf, her apparent knowledge about Wizards coupled with her complete ignorance on the finer details, her ability to withstand a stunning spell as if it was nothing...  
  
“You’re a Vampire Slayer.”  
  
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “And a cookie for the wizard,” she said grudgingly.  
  
Bill was anything but pleased, however. Perhaps his male pride had been restored, but this was much worse than any ridicule he would have suffered at the hands of his brothers, had they ever discovered that he had gotten his arse kicked by a girl who weighed less than seven stone. He had violated a very old, very strict accord, one which forbade wizards from performing magic of any kind on slayers.  
  
Bill bit back a groan. He had really made mess of this one. He needed to fix this, and quick.  
  
“For what it’s worth, I won’t try to stop you anymore, though I still think you’re mad. Now that I know who you are, I will also tell you that Greyback is a wizard, a cruel and ruthless one who delights in torturing people, whether they are a man, woman, or child.”  
  
The Vampire Slayer winced at this, her arm absently rubbing the spot his spell had hit her. It was the only indication that being Stupefyed might have affected her more than she had let on. Perhaps realizing what she was doing, she dropped her hand down a moment later.  
  
“Good to know,” she said. After a pause, she added, “Thanks.”  
  
Then, to Bill’s chagrin, she began walking backward -- with his wand. Since he was hardly in a position to argue -- in fact, that would probably only make the situation worse -- he simply watched.  
  
At first, he thought that maybe she meant to keep it this time. Then he noticed the way she eyed it with immense distrust, and for one brief, albeit delusional, moment, he thought that she might leave it on a rock or throw it into the woods so that he could retrieve once she had gone her merry way.   
  
It wasn’t until she reached the edge of the clearing that he realized her intention.  
  
“NO!” he shouted.   
  
But it was too late. With one clean motion, she snapped his wand in half.   
  
Bill stared at her, frozen in place with shock. He felt like he had been Petrified. His wand was… broken.   
  
“Just to let you know, the standard disclaimers still apply, only this time, if you try to use magic on me again, I’ll do more than just turn your  _wand_  into kindling. Understood?” she said.   
  
Then she tossed the remnants of his wand toward him and turned, breaking out in the opposite direction in a sprint -- though not before giving him one last smirk over her shoulder.  
  
Bill flushed with anger, but he didn’t dare move. He was too afraid; not of her, though clearly she was a force to be reckoned with, and he’d be only too glad never to be on the receiving end of her fist again.   
  
He was afraid of what he would do if he followed; for she made him want to forget the fact that he was sorely in need of Healer so he could chase after her.   
  
She made him want to answer the challenge she had issued, despite being obviously outmatched.  
  
She made him want to howl.   
  


+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So what do you think? Too early to tell?


	3. The Long and Winding Road

+++

Buffy stared at the sprawling manor before her.

It was a gorgeous place, the kind that belonged in a four page spread of _Town & Country_, from its impressive stone facade down to the hanging ivy that clung to the walls in just the right place; and that was only the main building. The grounds themselves were just as jaw-dropping. She could almost picture people playing lawn games on the well-manicured grass, right before they retired for some tea under the large willow trees that dotted the property. Well, if the inhabitants of the house weren’t a coven of witches anyway.

Buffy giggled at the thought of the coven’s leader, a dour witch by the name of Nora, doing something as mundane as playing croquet, or better yet, lawn darts. It was a nervous laughter, though, and not because Nora would probably turn Buffy into an ant if she knew she was laughing at her expense. 

No, the butterflies were there for another reason entirely. 

It was ridiculous, if Buffy thought about it. She had faced the First Evil. One little conversation should not have scared her. And yet, as she knocked on the heavy oak door, she couldn’t stop fidgeting.

A minute later, when the door creaked open and Buffy found herself standing before the head of the coven herself, she had to fight the fleeting urge to run.

“Ms. Summers, what a pleasant surprise,” Nora said, in a voice that sounded like it was neither pleased nor surprised.

Buffy took a deep breath before giving the witch her brightest smile. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother--”

“Follow me,” Nora cut in.

Then without waiting to see Buffy’s reaction, she turned on her heel and began walking back inside the house, her heels clacking loudly on the marble floors.

Buffy hesitated for a split second before she hurried after the woman, her own boots quickly adding to Nora’s staccato beat. 

Soon, she found herself in the middle of a confusing maze of corridors. Though she occasionally glanced at Nora, she didn’t say a word, both because the head witch really didn’t seem in the mood for small talk and because Buffy didn’t know what to say. She simply walked, content to listen to nothing but the almost hypnotic rhythm of their footsteps as they made their way through hallway after hallway. 

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Nora pushed open another large door, one that led outside to a covered walkway, and stopped.

“She’s out in the garden. The path at the end of the portico will take you there.” 

Buffy nodded. “Thank you.”

Then Nora was gone, and Buffy was on her own.

Suddenly, the butterflies were back, and by the feel of it, they had learned how to do the Mexican hat dance somewhere along the way.

There was no turning back now, though, so Buffy stepped onto the walkway and followed it to the end. There, just like Nora said, she found a pathway. It brought her right to the ‘garden’, though to her it looked more like a bunch of wildflowers; granted, more wildflowers than the eye could see, forming a wall so high she couldn’t see inside it, but a bunch of flowers nonetheless.

Buffy stared at the sea of colorful blossoms for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and waded in.

She found her a few seconds later, sitting close to a patch of heather, eyes closed and completely unaware of Buffy.

Buffy took the opportunity to study her. She looked better than she had a few weeks ago, when they had first arrived here. Of course, anything would have been an improvement.

Knowing that she had stalled long enough -- and feeling borderline creepy for staring -- Buffy cleared her throat.

“Willow.”

Her time here definitely hadn’t affected her Sunnydale-honed reflexes. Though Willow’s eyes snapped open in surprise, she was on her feet in two seconds flat. She didn’t make any move after that, though, and neither did Buffy. They just stood there looking at each other, both unsure what to do.

“And here I was, worried this would be awkward or something,” Buffy quipped in an effort to cover her own nervousness.

Willow blinked at her for a moment. Then she laughed and threw her arms around Buffy in a giant bear hug so quickly, Buffy barely had time to brace herself.

“It’s so good to see you, Buffy!” she exclaimed. Then, just as abruptly, she pulled away, a frown on her face. “Hey, wait. You’re supposed to be in France right now. You know, letting some French hottie woo you with croissants and wine.”

Buffy gave her a crooked smile. “Croissants and wine? Am I getting wooed, or just drunk and fat?” she joked.

Willow just arched her eyebrow, letting Buffy know that her attempt to divert her focus from the question failed. Miserably.

Buffy tried again. 

“I was worried about you,” she said, which was totally true. Between the red hair, the werewolf talk, and the magic flying around, how could she not think about Willow and worry about her, especially since she was close by?

Though Willow smiled at this, she still said nothing and just waited.

Buffy suddenly became very interested in her feet. She knew there was no escape, though.

“I, uh, got... sidetracked,” she finally mumbled. “Werewolf.”

“You’re slaying again?!”

Buffy suddenly wished a Hellmouth would open up under her feet and swallow her whole.

She knew she shouldn’t have come here. Things were finally starting to be okay between her and Willow. In fact, Willow was one of the few people who understood why she had to leave the group, that she needed some time away, if there was any chance of her coming back again. The others had been much less understanding. A few of the girls even accused her abandoning them, and honestly, maybe they were right. Still, she had to do it, and she did, with Willow’s support. Her show of solidarity was the first step toward reconciliation between them.

And now she was messing it up, just like she was afraid of.

It was all that stupid non-werewolf’s fault. 

“Hello? Buffy? Are you still with me?”

Buffy gave a start and realized Willow was staring at her, obviously waiting for her to make with the explaining. 

“It’s nothing, really. I mean, can a werewolf even fall under the slayage category, seeing as there’s no actually slaying going on?” she asked. “And anyway, it doesn’t mean anything. It definitely doesn’t mean I’m going back to it. I’m just doing this one last time to... to get it out of my system. Closure, if you will. Then I’ll move on with no apologies and no regrets. And is it just me, or do I sound like I’m in a relationship with it?”

As she took a much needed breath, she glanced over at Willow. To her dismay, she saw that her friend’s face was bright red. It took a minute before she realized it was because she was trying not to laugh.

“Wow, Buff, I think you just beat me in the babble category there,” Willow teased.

“So... you’re not mad?” Buffy asked nervously.

Suddenly, Willow became dead serious. “Well, of course, I’m mad. Now I owe Xander twenty bucks,” she said. At Buffy’s confused look, she smirked. “He said you’d be slaying again by the end of the month. I said it would take two.”

Buffy felt her jaw drop. “You... he... _what_?”

Willow’s laughter disappeared when she saw how distressed Buffy was.

“It’s okay, Buffy. Really it is,” she reassured her. “There are no hard feelings about it, honest. We just know _you_. You wouldn’t turn your back on anything slayer-related, not when innocent people could get hurt.”

Buffy swallowed hard. It was getting more and more difficult to deny the fact that slaying was still very much part of her, wasn’t it? Still, she wasn’t quite ready to accept it yet, at least not completely. After all, the land of denial was lovely this time of year.

“Maybe,” she conceded. “But there’s a big difference between this back-to-basics kind of slaying and the kind that involves apocalypses.” 

Willow nodded fervently in agreement. “I hear you on that one,” she said. Then she clapped her hands together. “So, tell me all about this werewolf.”

“No,” Buffy immediately replied. “I didn’t come here to talk shop.”

Willow pouted. “Oh, come on, Buffy. This is the most excitement I’ve had in weeks. Seriously, if it wasn’t for the incredibly abundant and highly suspicious amount of dried herbs hanging everywhere, you wouldn’t even _know_ I was living with a coven of witches. And sure, I think that’s mostly because Nora ordered everyone not to do magic around me in case it sends me spiralling back downward into a mind-numbing depression, but _still_ , sometimes we need a little vicarious living,” she huffed.

Buffy smiled, despite herself. “I think you just took back the babbling title,” she said. Her smile quickly faded, though, as she was reminded of the other reason why she had dreaded seeing her friend. “So your magic hasn’t returned yet?”

“Nope. Nora’s still working on it, although she has a few ideas about what happened,” Willow said with a shrug.

Even though Willow talked like it was no big, Buffy knew differently. She had gone through a similar experience with the Cruciamentum. She had also seen Willow right after they had closed the Hellmouth, when they all finally realized something was wrong.

Buffy bit her lip, an overwhelming surge of guilt washing over her. After all, the activation spell had been her idea.

“Willow, I--”

“Don’t you dare apologize _again_ , Buffy Anne Summers. We all did what we had to, and you know what? It saved the world. Seriously, no one blames you, so just stop this,” Willow ordered.

“ _No one_ blames me?” Buffy asked pointedly.

“Not anymore. We worked all that out, remember?” she insisted. At Buffy’s continued look, she pressed her lips together in an effort to hide her smile. “Okay, _Kennedy_ still blames you. But I’m working on that, I promise. Now spill.”

Finally giving in, Buffy told Willow all about the werewolf she was tracking, including her encounter with the mystery wizard the previous night. She glossed over the part about the attempted memory assault, though. She knew how guilty Willow still felt over what she had done to Tara. Instead, she focused on what he had told her about her intended target. 

“From what this wizard was insinuating, it sounds like this Greyback is a pretty nasty wolf,” Buffy concluded. “If that’s the case, I may have to handle this differently.”

Willow frowned. “Before you go, let me talk to Maris. Her parents were wizards, but both she and her sister aren’t. Maris was able to learn my kind of magic, but I’m pretty sure her sister decided to stay with her parents, so she might be able to help.”

+++

“Bill Weasley.”

Buffy’s eyes snapped open. She had been lying among the flowers, just enjoying the feel of sunlight on her face while Willow went to go talk to some people. After so many nights prowling around in damp forests, it was a welcome change. She must have dozed off, though, because the sun was significantly lower in the sky now.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked at Willow, who was looking down at her with a triumphant smile on her face.

“Huh?”

Willow rolled her eyes and sat down next to Buffy. “The wizard you met last night,” she elaborated “Maris said his name is Bill Weasley. Apparently, Greyback’s attack on him was big news when it happened. Something about Bill defending a school of kids against an attack led by Greyback and some other dark wizards.”

Buffy groaned and fell back on the grass. “Great, you just had to make him all noble and tragic, didn’t you? Now I’m going to feel bad the next time I pound him into the ground.”

She heard Willow snort with laughter. 

It took her a moment to realize why.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she exclaimed, her face burning with embarrassment. “So did your friend have the 411 on Greyback?”

Willow grimaced, all traces of humor gone. “Yes. And it’s not good. Like I said, Greyback was part of a group of dark wizards who thought all non-magical people were inferior to them. Their leader was very powerful, very dogmatic, and very ruthless. Think Hitler but with magic,” she said grimly. “There was this huge war a few years ago between this group and some other wizards, of which this Bill was a part of--”

With a yelp, Buffy sat up. “What?! Are you seriously telling me that there was an entire _war_ where one side wanted to exterminate everyone who couldn’t do magic -- which is most of the world, by the way -- and this is the first we’re hearing about it?”

“Right, because we put out a PSA for every yearly world endage,” Willow said dryly. She laughed when Buffy stuck her tongue out at her. “Seriously, Buff, right or wrong, these wizards play it close to the chest. Luckily, the good guys won.”

Buffy blew out her breath as she took a minute to think about everything Willow had said. It looked like she would have to bring out the heavy artillery after all. Still, she wanted to be absolutely sure first. This wasn’t the kind of a decision she made lightly.

“So why attack sheep? That doesn’t really seem to fit the MO, does it?”

Willow shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s trying to fly under the radar? Maris was definitely spooked when I mentioned his name. And from what she said, it looks like this Bill guy wasn’t exaggerating. Greyback enjoys the kill, whether he’s wolfed out or not, and when he is... well, let’s just say that it’s the younger the better for him. The guy’s evil through and through.”

Buffy had heard enough. Willow was right. She needed to take care of this guy, the sooner the better. Without another word, she pushed herself up off the ground.

Willow joined her a second later.

“Buffy, before you go, I have a few things for you. Gifts, to help you,” she explained.

Buffy immediately shook her head. “Will, you really don’t have to. You’ve done more than enough.”

Willow smirked. “They’re not from me, they’re from Nora,” she replied.

That got Buffy’s attention. From their brief interactions, Buffy got the impression that the head witch had nothing but disdain for her. Curiosity overwhelming her objections, she watched as Willow reached for a bag on the ground Buffy hadn’t noticed before.

Before she pulled whatever was inside out, however, Willow paused, a hesitant look on her face.

“Buffy, I have to tell you something Nora told me in the house just now, something about you,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “Slayers have magic in them.”

Buffy’s eyebrows flew upward. “Whoa, wait a sec. That’s just crazy talk. I’ve never been good with magic, remember?” 

She was _thisclose_ to adding, ‘that’s all you’, before she managed to catch herself.

By the slight twitch on Willow’s face, she thought her near slip might have been noticed anyway. Before she could apologize, however, Willow’s expression smoothed and she began speaking as if it hadn’t happened.

“I thought so, too, but according to Nora, ‘Slayers by their very nature are magical beings. It’s in their very essence. It is only due to the machinations of some highly insecure, severely short-sighted men that this gift has been allowed to dull over the centuries’,” Willow explained, in a very bad yet highly amusing British accent.

Buffy laughed despite herself. “Okay, then. If that’s true, why is she only telling us this now?”

“Because up until this point, the slayer’s always been in the control of these men,” Willow explained. “Anyway, I wouldn’t get too excited. Although Nora wasn’t too forthcoming with the details -- I think she sees this as a test or something -- I got the impression that you won’t be able to do magic or anything, not the same way wizards or Wiccans can at least. Yours will be more intuitive, more subtle. Does this make any sense?”

“Nope, and I don’t have time to figure it out now,” Buffy immediately replied. “Her Majesty deign to impart any other words of wisdom?”

Willow hushed her, though the effect was ruined by the grin on her face. “Nope, she just wanted me to give you this.”

Then, without any further preamble, she pulled a necklace out of the bag. It was delicately wrought, with whorls and swirls intricately woven into a very fancy knot. When Buffy looked closer, she thought she saw some runes carved into the metal threads.

“This will help protect you against magical attacks and enhance your own abilities, which you’ll need for _this_ ,” Willow said. As she spoke, she pulled something else from the bag.

Buffy gasped. It was a weapon, something of a cross between a dagger and a short sword -- the perfect size for her, by the looks of it, with a short leather-clad hilt and a shiny blade that tapered into a sharp point. It was gorgeous.

Willow held it out to her, and after a moment’s hesitation, Buffy took it. As soon as her hand had fully grasped the hilt -- which was surprisingly supple to the touch -- she felt something; a tingling warmth that raced through her body.

She looked up at Willow in astonishment.

“Nora may not be full of warm fuzzies, but she definitely knows her stuff,” Willow murmured. Then she gave Buffy a wry smile. “I think you and Carnwennan just bonded.” 

With a grin, Buffy inspected the sword in earnest.

Up close, she could now see that, like the necklace, it also had runes, which ran down the length of the blade on one side. On the other, there was a jagged line, one that looked like a lightning bolt or something. The most surprising feature was on the pommel, though; set inside was a pale brown crystal, rounded and smoothed into a sphere.

She looked up at Willow questioningly.

“Smoky quartz,” Willow said. Then she clapped her hands together. “Okay, now it’s time to learn how to use it.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Uh, Willow? I think that’s the one thing I _do_ know how to do.”

She hadn’t even finished speaking before Willow was shaking her head.

“Not this sword. This one you can _summon_. You just have to focus on it and call it by its name.” 

Buffy frowned. Names were not her strong suit. 

“Uh, could you tell me its name again?”

“Carwennan.”

Yeah, there was no way she was going to remember that. On the other hand, weapons weren’t given names willy nilly. They were reserved for those that deserved it -- which meant mangling its pronunciation would be a major sign of disrespect.

Buffy gazed at the blade in question. “How about I call you Winnie? Would that work?” she murmured.

Then she waited. When she didn’t get zapped on the spot, she took it as a sign that it was okay.

And with that they got to work.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as it looked. First she had to learn how to clear her mind and visualize it. Then she had to half-ask, half-will it to appear in her hand. By the time Buffy finally managed to make the sword materialize, she was out of breath and covered in sweat.

“Excellent, Buffy!” Willow encouraged.

Buffy looked up at her with a weak smile. “Yeah, as long as the baddies are willing to give me a meditation break mid-battle to the death, I’m good.”

Willow shook her head. “You’re over the hump. With a little practice, you’ll be summoning with the best of them.”

Buffy straightened up. “I hope so,” she replied. Then she frowned. “I hate to say it, but I can’t stay any longer. I want to catch this guy ASAP.”

She held out her arm, which Willow immediately took. Arms linked, they walked to one of the entrances to the manor. When they got to the door, however, they stopped, knowing it was time to say goodbye.

At first, they just stared at each other, both at a loss for words. Then Buffy gave Willow a big hug.

“Thank you, Willow. For everything. Now you just focus on getting better so you can start kicking some Wicca ass again.”

Willow immediately hugged her back. “I will,” she promised. As she pulled back, however, she bit her lip uncertainly. “Will you come back when this is over?”

Buffy blinked in surprise; not at the question, but because Willow honestly thought she might say no.

“Do you even have to ask? Of course I’ll come!” she said, pulling her in for another quick hug.

“Good,” Willow said, her relief obvious. She broked away and opened the door. “Buffy, maybe you should consider working with Bill Weasley. I don’t like the idea of you going up against this Greyback alone.”

“Absolutely not,” Buffy immediately replied, maybe a little too quickly, judging by the look on Willow’s face. 

Buffy hesitated. She didn’t want to upset Willow, but it could be important for her to know, especially if Buffy crossed paths with him again. 

“He tried to erase my memory of him and Greyback.”

Willow blanched, and Buffy instantly regretted not sticking to her guns. 

“Don’t worry. Between my nifty new sword and necklace, he doesn’t stand a chance,” she said as reassuringly as she could. 

“And if even tries it again, he’ll have me to deal with, magic or not,” Willow said, her eyes sparking dangerously with anger. Then she sighed. “Just... be careful, okay?”

Buffy smirked. “Aren’t I always?”

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, I powered Buffy up a little bit. Please don’t hate me.


	4. you can't always get what you want

+++

Bill had always prided himself on the steadfastness of his family, that despite all their hardships, they always looked after one another and came out stronger for it. Of course, it also meant that sometimes, they couldn’t leave well enough alone, which was why he had been avoiding them for the past some odd months, communicating primarily by owl, if at all.

Shame it all had to end before he was ready; by his own hand, no less. It couldn’t be helped, though. He needed information, and there was only one person who could get it for him.

With that, Bill threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and shouted, “The Burrow!” as he stepped inside. A few moments later, he was greeted by the sight of his childhood home.

He had to admit, it was a welcome sight. Before he dared take a step out of the fireplace, however, he listened carefully to the sounds -- and smells -- around him.

He had known that most of his family would be at work already, but he wasn’t certain about his mum. After a long moment, however, he let out a sigh of relief.

She wasn’t there. It seemed as though she had kept up her habit of going to market on this particular day at this particular time.

Bill grinned, utterly pleased with himself as he stepped out of the fireplace. Now that the first order of business was taken care of, he could move on to the second.

He found her in the sitting room, her nose, not surprisingly, in a book. In fact, she was so engrossed in whatever it was she was reading, she didn’t notice his entrance into the room.

Bill’s grin grew wider. “Hermione!” he said, a little louder than was strictly necessary.

He did it as a lark, thinking he would have a bit of fun with his tightly wound sister-in-law; and indeed, he laughed when she jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice. When he noticed how red her face was becoming, and how large her belly was as she struggled to get to her feet, however, he felt like the world’s biggest tosser -- particularly since he had _known_ that she was living here at the Burrow until the baby came because she had had such a difficult pregnancy, and that she was due any day now.

“Hermione, I’m so sorry. Really, I--”

Apparently, it was too little too late. She brushed his apology aside without the slightest hesitation and glared at him, her eyes bright with anger.

“Bill Weasley!” she hissed. “Where have you been? We haven’t heard from you in over a week, not even a single owl.”

Bill winced. It was worse than he’d thought. “I know. I’ve been... busy.”

That only seemed to make it worse. 

“Don’t you know everyone is worried sick about you?” she fumed, her eyes finding the bruise on his jaw, which no amount of potion or salve could make disappear. “I have a half a mind to owl your mother right now and tell her to come back here.”

Bill gave a start at this. Clearly, he had underestimated her. He needed to work himself out of this mess, and quickly. 

“Please, Hermione, not yet. I promise that I’ll come by for a proper visit soon. I just need a little more time,” he pleaded. Then he went in for the kill. “You know my mum will want to talk about Fleur... and other issues... and I’m just not ready for that yet.”

Her face softened at this, just like he’d hoped it would. A long moment passed before she nodded, albeit a bit grudgingly. 

“Alright,” she relented. “But it had better be soon.”

Bill broke out into a relieved grin. “Thank you, Hermione,” he replied. He crossed over to her and gave her a quick, brotherly peck on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

She simply rolled her eyes as she sat back down on the sofa. “Honestly, you Weasley men are unbelievable. It’s a wonder your mother hasn’t up and murdered the lot of you.”

“And deprive the world of our Weasley charm?” Bill said in mock horror, as he plunked himself down in his parents’ well worn but comfortable armchair.

Hermione gave him rude gesture, showing him exactly what she thought about that.

Bill laughed. “Why, Hermione Granger, I didn’t know you knew such language,” he scolded.

She just ignored his comment. “So, Bill, if you’re not here to see your mum, then why are you here?”

Always to the point, she was. Still, Bill thought he needed to soften her up a little bit more before he sprung his favor upon her. And since this was Hermione, who could see through the bullshit right away, he decided to lay it on extra thick. 

“To see my favorite sister-in-law, of course.”

True to form, Hermione bristled. “Bill, Audrey and Angelina are quite lovely. You’d know that if you ever came around,” she accused. “Why are you really here?”

“To let my niece or nephew hear the dulcet tones of what will undoubtedly be his or her favorite uncle?” he offered.

She just crossed her arms over her chest.

Bill resisted the urge to make a face at her. She always was the no nonsense type. It was one of the many reasons why she and Ron worked so well.

“I need your help,” he admitted. Then, deciding that the time to mince words had passed, he added, “With a little research project.”

He watched as a myriad of emotions flitted across Hermione’s face.

Under the most ordinary of circumstances, the mention of research would have caught her interest. Now, after being cooped up in the Burrow for a few months now, she had to practically restrain herself from agreeing to help him right there on the spot, no questions asked. He could see it in her eyes.

But restrain herself she did. She didn’t say a single word. She just waited for him to explain what he meant. 

Bill leaned forward in his chair. This was it; the time to lay everything out on the table and hope that, by the time he had finished, she hadn’t summoned his mum – or the wizards at St. Mungo’s.

“I had a run-in with a Vampire Slayer last night. Apparently we were looking for the same person,” he said dryly.

“A Vampire Slayer?” Hermione gasped, her eyebrows raised alarmingly high. “Are you sure?”

Bill ruefully nodded, his fingers ghosting over his jaw. “I’m sure.”

Hermione’s eyes became the size of saucers. “Bill Weasley!” she practically screeched. “Tell me you did not attack her! You know that, ever since the Roanoke-Grenville Accord of 1586, it is expressly forbidden to perform magic of any sort on a Slayer or her Watcher.”

“I know,” Bill grumbled, feeling a bit tetchy at the rebuke. “But I didn’t have much of a choice, at the time. She’s... how did she put it? A ‘hit first, ask questions later’ sort of girl-- Wait, what’s a Watcher?”

“A Watcher is a Slayer’s mentor, someone who guides her in her responsibilities by providing training and counsel, as well as support out in the field,” Hermione said, almost as if she were reciting it from a textbook -- which she probably was. 

Bill paid it no heed. He was too busy thinking back to the previous night. He hadn’t seen anyone like that lurking about, and he certainly hadn’t sensed anything. But then, as he was painfully reminded last night, his senses weren’t exactly at their sharpest. Still, it irked him immensely that someone else could have been there, unbeknownst to him. He began to wonder if a certain frustrating blonde had been correct after all-- 

“He’s really back, isn’t he?”

Bill snapped back to attention at the sound of Hermione’ voice. At his look, she continued on, though she was clearly loathe to do so.

“I didn’t want to believe it when you had first told us about your suspicions,” she quietly admitted. “I know you wouldn’t say such things if you didn’t have evidence, but it just didn’t seem possible. So many people saw him fall in the last battle, even if his body was never recovered. And with the baby on the way… I’m sorry, Bill, we should have believed you.”

Bill regarded her for a moment before replying. She seemed calm, but he suspected she was anything but. Though she, Harry, and Ron had been sparse on the details, the whole family had known that Greyback had taken an interest in Hermione during the war. 

While he didn’t want to worry her, he also wasn’t going to lie.

“Yes, he is.”

She blew out a shaky breath. 

“But why?” she asked, just as much to herself as it was to him. “His side lost the war. There is nothing here for him except Azkaban or death. What does he stand to gain?”

“Revenge,” Bill stated firmly, for he himself had been thinking about this for quite some time. “It’s the only reason to come back. I believe it’s why he hasn’t made his presence known yet, aside from the animal attacks.”

Hermione fell silent as she absorbed this information. Both she and Bill knew very well who Greyback might want revenge on. 

Bill decided to use the opportunity to the fullest. 

“I have to admit, I was glad to hear that you and Ron are staying here until the baby is born. And that my parents never removed the Fidelius Charm on the house,” Bill said. “I’ve mentioned my concerns to Harry several times as well. Perhaps you might have a word with him now, too, to make sure everyone is looked after?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course. I just wish I, or for that matter, _Harry_ , could do more. But Auror or not, he still needs the approval of the Ministry,” she said quietly. Then she shook her head briskly, clearly wanting to get back to the matter at hand. “What exactly is it you want from me, Bill? How can I help?”

Bill gave her a small smile. “You can’t, not with Greyback. Nor would I ask that of you. But I do need to know more about Vampire Slayers,” he replied. “I obviously was not expecting to run into her last night, and I don’t want to be caught unprepared, if our paths should cross again, because unfortunately, I believe they will.”

Hermione frowned. “If you’re both looking for Greyback, could you not work together?”

“No,” Bill immediately said, a little more forcefully than intended.

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Because he couldn’t very well tell her that the girl riled the werewolf within like no other, he hastily tried to think of a reasonable explanation. 

As it turned out, it wasn’t that difficult. 

“To begin with, she’s a bossy little thing. And quite violent, though I suppose that comes with the job. Regardless, I’m pretty certain I’d end up concussed or worse before we found him,” he said. “And then there’s the matter of how Greyback should be handled. She clearly has no idea who he is or what his history is, and I don’t want to get mired in Council-Ministry politics because we can’t agree on a course of action. No, it’s best if I worked this one out by myself.”

By the time he had finished, Hermione had the most curious expression on her face, one he couldn’t read at all. As the seconds ticked by and she didn’t move, Bill began to get nervous. 

If she wouldn’t help him, his only other option was his straighter than an arrow brother, and Bill highly doubted Percy would help him for something like this; for as much as the Battle of Hogwarts had changed his brother, made him a stalwart for anything that involved his family, he still had an annoying penchant for following the rules, down to the last letter.

Just when he was about to up and leave, figuring he had been refused despite everything, she finally spoke. 

“Alright. I’ll help,” she relented, and Bill resisted the urge to envelope her in a bear hug. “I’ll have to owl you with the information, however. Though I know a bit about Vampire Slayers, I’d like to cross-reference my sources first, just to be certain I’m correct. I’ve heard a few rumors circulating around the Ministry that may also bear some looking into, something involving a powerful Wiccan.”

Bill beamed at her. “Thank you, Hermione. I owe you one.”

She shook her head. “It’s the least I can do, for not believing you when you first told us about Greyback.”

That caught him by surprise, and he felt a rush of affection for his sister-in-law. “I wish I were wrong,” he said sincerely. 

She nodded. They both fell silent for a moment before he stood to leave. 

“Well, I guess I’ll wait to hear from you then?” he asked.

“No,” she said. At his confused look, she hastily explained. “Before you go, tell me more about the girl. For research purposes, of course. Perhaps I can find a bit of information about her specifically.”

Bill shrugged as he thought back to the previous night’s encounter. 

“Well, she’s a bit of a thing, only a little over a meter and a half, I would guess,” he said. “She has long, blonde hair, green eyes. Thin, too. A lot thinner than someone like her should probably be, not that it seemed to inhibit her at all. And she’s American. Merlin, the way she speaks. It’s mind boggling. You’d need a dictionary just to have a conversation with her. And--” Bill stopped mid-sentence. Hermione had that odd expression on her face again. “What?”

She just shook her head. “Nothing. I’ll see what I can find,” she said quickly. 

Bill was suspicious, but he didn’t want to press, as she was doing him an enormous favor. Instead he walked over to her and placed a kiss on the top of her head, wisely refraining from mentioning that pregnancy seemed to make her normally bushy hair even more so. 

“You’re the best, Hermione,” he said. “I definitely owe you one.”

“Just make sure you keep your promise and stop in soon,” she said sternly. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied dutifully. 

Though she gave him an arch look in response, he saw the small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. 

With that, he stepped into the Floo once more. He had a wand to replace.

+++

“Hmm… Intriguing.”

“What’s that?” Bill asked irritably, fighting the urge to throw the wand he was holding across the room.

Ollivander gave him an odd little grin. “Never you mind, Master Weasley. We will find you a wand yet.”

And with that, he disappeared in the back room.

Bill let out a loud sigh, slumping into the chair behind him as he put the wand back in its box. He had been in the old man’s shop for the better part of an hour now looking for a new wand, and as the boxes littered around him could attest, he’d had no luck whatsoever. 

And here he’d thought it would be a simple matter when he first had walked in, perhaps requiring no more effort than giving Ollivander the specifications of his previous wand. 

He had quickly been disabused of that notion by the old wandmaker, of course; with a sniff of disdain and a lecture on wandlore, no less. Still, he hadn’t thought it would take quite this long. As Ollivander pointed out, however, he had changed quite a bit since the last time he had come. The crafty old fox had even hinted that Bill was changing still, hence the difficulty in finding a compatible wand.

Bill scowled, not liking this last bit at all; but there was nothing he could do about it -- or the search for a new wand -- so he sat back in his chair and waited. 

Just as he started to settle in, however, he heard a loud tapping noise. 

Searching out the source of the noise, Bill soon found himself staring at his father’s owl, peering in at him through the storefront window with something large clutched in its talons. Even from his vantage point, he could see his name scrawled on package in the neat, unmistakable handwriting of one Hermione Granger. 

Bill leapt to his feet and hurried over to the door. A few strides later, he was next to the owl, relieving the poor beast of its oversized burden. 

With the package now in hand, he couldn’t help but marvel at Hermione; not at how quickly she had responded -- this was _Hermione_ they were talking about, after all -- but at the size of the package itself. 

His curiosity fully piqued, he quickly opened it. Inside was a letter and two books. 

Bill immediately went for the letter first, devouring the words as quickly as he could.

_Dear Bill,_

_Enclosed is a book describing Vampire Slayers, one I retrieved from a private collection (as a side note, I’d appreciate it if you never mentioned this to Ron, as he would not be pleased if he knew which collection it had come from). I found it quite enlightening, as most Ministry-related notes on the subject are pure rubbish, as they often are when they speak of something they cannot or do not want to understand._

_Also, I believe I found the particular girl you encountered, though it was more difficult than I originally imagined, due to the fact that there is now more than one Vampire Slayer in existence. I have explained the circumstances around this quite surprising development in a separate document, which you will find in the inside cover of the first book._

_Her name is Buffy Summers. She is actually quite famous, as both the longest living Vampire Slayer and the most accomplished, having thwarted several attempts at destroying the world as we know it. In light of this, I urge you to reconsider enlisting her aid. If you choose to do so, I’ve enclosed another book that you may find useful._

_All the best,  
Hermione_

Bill looked at the two books. The first was a large tome entitled “Vampyr”. Despite its intimidating size, however, he was grateful for it.

It was the second book that almost had him running for the hills, despite its sleek design and glossy cover. But then, he suspected ”The American Muggle: Confusing and Amusing Proverbs and Phrases” had that effect on many a wizard.

+++


	5. Second verse, same as the first

+++

As Buffy pushed her way through yet another set of thick brambles, she could admit it.

Greyback was good.

Not that she expected that it would be a cakewalk to find him again. Between being a wizard and a werewolf, he probably had a few tricks up his sleeve to stay hidden; which, now that she thought about it, was probably why it had taken her three days just to catch a glimpse of him. Still, she had started off the night believing that this would be the easy part, that she was simply doing Scooby due diligence by checking out the area where she had last seen him. She hadn’t really expected to find his trail, or that it would be an incredibly intricate web of double backs and dead ends.

Thankfully, she was no slouch, either, and this time she was better prepared. With a backpack full of supplies, her crossbow, and Winnie, she was picking through all the false trails and following the real one — albeit at a much slower rate than she would have preferred. 

_Survivalist training,_ she thought to herself, as she yanked her leg free of a particularly grabby branch. _All slayers should have to do some sort of survivalist training._

It made sense. Though it wasn’t something they would need all the time — or hopefully ever — it could save lives if it ever _was_ needed.

It would also have the added bonus of driving Kennedy crazy. Just thinking of the annoying girl being dropped in the woods with nothing but a knife, some water, and the fading tracks of a demon to follow brought a grin to Buffy’s face.

Sure, the girl was beyond tough, even Buffy could admit that — to herself. She wouldn’t have survived the final battle in Sunnydale if she wasn’t. All the demons in the world couldn’t erase Kennedy’s Park Avenue attitude, though, and she would definitely _not_ be happy slogging through a forest like this. 

Not that Buffy could talk. If Giles had ever suggested something like that to her… well, it wouldn’t have been pretty. 

It was crazy how much things could change in a year. 

Before she got too far into imagining what this test would look like — which of course would be called the ‘Hansel and Gretel’ — she stopped herself.

It wasn’t up to her to train the girls. She didn’t _want_ it to be. Of course, she didn’t want to feel the exhilaration of the hunt, either, or the way the cool forest air felt like a breath of freedom. And yet there they were. Again. 

Buffy scowled. The sooner she found the werewolf, the better. Clearly, the slayer slope was too slippery for her.

Annoyed now, she picked up the pace, practically stomping her way down the trail. She knew it was immature and non-stealthy of her. Still, she didn’t stop, she couldn’t; at least, not until she came across some very familiar, very magically burnt shrubbery in front of her. Then she came to an abrupt halt, all but shocked into stillness by the sight before her. 

She was right back where she had started, where it _all_ had started the previous night with Bill Weasley. Greyback had led her on a wild goose chase.

_No,_ she immediately corrected herself. _It’s worse than that._

He wasn’t just being cautious and covering his trail. He had known he was being followed, or at least suspected it. Either way, the cat was definitely out of the bag now. There was no way he wouldn’t have picked up her scent here, or see the obvious damage around him.

Her already black mood grew just a shade darker. She had been counting on the element of surprise. Now that was obviously gone, and she had run out of leads, to boot. 

Biting back her frustration, Buffy started to leave, her mind already on what her next steps should be. She had only taken a few steps, however, when she heard something; a noise, a little ways off.

Buffy frowned. It couldn’t possibly be Greyback. On the other hand, she had nothing to lose if she checked it out, and she really couldn’t afford to miss the opportunity if it was him. 

Without any further hesitation, she followed the sounds. She immediately noticed that she was headed toward the exact spot where she and Bill Weasley had had their second little ‘chat’ the previous night.

That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Her anticipation heightened, Buffy stopped and slid her backpack off her shoulders, hiding in the crevice of an old, gnarled tree, taking with her only her crossbow and Winnie. Then she continued on, taking extra care to move as silently as she could.

It wasn’t until the clearing came into view — or more specifically, when she saw a flash of red hair — that she realized it was a wasted effort. 

Buffy bit back a groan. She knew that running into Bill Weasley again was inevitable. They were, after all, looking for the same baddie. Still, she had hoped.

Not wanting to be seen, Buffy partially hid behind the closest tree to see what he was doing. 

To her surprise, he knelt on the forest floor and began sifting through the leaves, obviously in search of something. He was so intent in his task, he didn’t sense her presence at all. His angry muttering probably didn’t help.

Buffy rolled her eyes. She had no idea how she ever thought he was Greyback. No self-respecting werewolf would’ve been caught dead making that much noise — emphasis on ‘self-respecting’.

She watched him for another minute before she made up her mind. Though she knew she was tempting fate, that she should probably just turn and walk away, she couldn’t. She hadn’t forgiven him for trying to mess with her mind, she was cranky, and it was just too good an opportunity to pass up. Plus, there was the off chance that he knew something useful about Greyback.

Slowly, she rested Winnie against the tree. Then she bent down toward the ground and picked up a stone. When she was sure his back was completely turned, she stepped out from behind the tree and threw it.

It landed mere inches next to his searching hand — right where she had intended it to.

In a flash, he was on his feet and facing her, _with_ a brand spanking new wand in his hand.

Buffy scowled, though she could hardly complain. She had had both her crossbow and sword aimed at him before the rock hit the ground — knowing full well who he was.

As recognition slowly sank in, she saw him relax ever so slightly, though not enough to lower the wand. 

Smart man, she thought. Lousy wolf, but smart man. 

She gave him a small smile. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this, Bill Weasley.”

His eyes widened slightly at his name; however, he simply replied, “We certainly do, Buffy Summers.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes, her smile gone. She supposed turnabout was fair play, but she didn’t have to like it.

They regarded each other for a long moment, each trying to out-stubborn the other. Bill was the first to give.

“Look, I know you’re not crazy about me, and truth be told, I’d like to stay as far away from you as possible, but can we at least call a truce?” he asked, lowering his wand cautiously in a show of good faith.

He was right; she knew it in her gut. Still, Buffy waited a beat before lowering her weapons as well, just to make him sweat. 

“Alright” she conceded as she leaned against the tree in a deceptively casual pose. Then, because she couldn’t resist, she added, “Nice wand, by the way.”

Bill quirked his eyebrow at her. “Thank you, though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come within a Quidditch pitch of it.”

Though she had no idea what a Quid-whatever was, his meaning was clear, and she made a face at him. “Sure, just don’t give me a reason to.”

“Fair enough,” Bill nodded. “Of course, that would be easier if you stopped hurling rocks at me.”

“Really? Because the way I see, I was doing you a favor,” Buffy shot back.

Bill snorted. “How so?”

“By showing you how craptastic you are at this whole wolf thing.”

His expression immediately darkened. Though she would’ve bet money that he had never heard the word ‘craptastic’ before, he got the gist of what she was saying, and he didn’t like it. 

Buffy didn’t care.

“Don’t you get it? Out here, Greyback has a real advantage over you, over _both_ of us,” she continued. “So you need to get that furry chip off your shoulder, stop fighting against your instincts, and start embracing the wolf inside. If you don’t, he’s going to catch you off-guard, like I just did. Only then you’ll be dead.” 

As she spoke, she couldn’t help but think of her own situation and the conflicting emotions she had about slaying. And dammit all, it made her feel uncomfortably hypocritical. Thankfully, Bill Weasley had no way of knowing this. 

“Shouldn’t you be concerned as well then, seeing as you lack the magical abilities that we do?” he retorted, clearly deciding to ignore everything she had said. 

She smirked. “I’m working on it.”

She thought she was being cryptic enough, but his eyes strayed to her sword almost immediately. Not in the mood for questions, especially ones she wasn’t going to answer, she cut him off at the pass. 

“So what are you looking for anyway?” 

He studied her for a moment before replying. “My wand. I couldn’t find it last night, but I couldn’t just leave it lying about, either, so I thought I’d have another go at it,” he said. 

Buffy scrunched her brow in confusion. “Can’t you just abracadabra your wand to you?”

For some reason, this made him flush a deep red. 

“No,” he bit out.

Buffy stared at him for a moment, wondering what his deal was, until she remembered that she didn’t care. 

She pushed herself off the tree. “Okay, then. Happy hunting.” 

She began to turn and walk away. Behind her, she heard a deep sigh of relief, quickly followed by some more rustling, indicating that he had resumed his search. 

As surreptitiously as she could, Buffy peeked over her shoulder. She saw that he was looking right in the spot he had been in before she had interrupted. Unfortunately for him, he was way off. She had thrown the wand close to a big birch, one that was behind her.

Buffy rolled her eyes. Apparently, wizards were useless without their magic.

Still, she kind of felt bad for him; not enough to help or anything, but enough to feel the slightest twinge of pity. The guy was royally screwed, and he didn’t even know it. There was nothing she could do to change _that_ , though, so she kept on walking — until she reached the base of the birch in question. That was when her pesky conscience reared its ugly head.

Even as she second guessed herself, Buffy turned back toward him. “You might want to try looking over here,” she suggested, pointing to the tree on her right. “I’ve got a good arm, especially when I’m pissed off.”

“A fact I know firsthand,” he said wryly, gesturing to his face, which she noticed still had a pretty big bruise on it. Then he offered her a small but genuine smile. “Thank you.”

She gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. “It’s no big,” she said. 

She watched as he made his way over to the birch, covering the distance with a handful of long strides. Soon, he was on his hands and knees again, searching the ground. 

Satisfied that she had done all that she could — or at least, all she was willing to do — Buffy made to leave yet again. As she turned to go, however, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye, on her other side off to the left.

It was half of Bill Weasley’s wand, sticking out of the ground. It must have ricocheted off the tree and landed there.

At the same time, she heard Bill give a triumphant “Ha!” 

Obviously, he had found the other half.

Buffy was tempted to just go, figuring she had already gone above and beyond the help he deserved. Once again, however, conscious nagged at her, unable to let her walk away. 

With a long suffering sigh, she leaned Winnie against a tree and picked it up.

“Hey, I—”

The words died in her mouth as she saw the look on Bill’s face. 

He had gone completely white, as if he had seen a ghost. His broken wand, on the other hand, suddenly had a pretty blue glow to it. 

Then he disappeared. 

Buffy gave a start. She hadn’t been expecting that. At all. From the look on Bill’s face, neither had he, and it bothered her — so much so that she didn’t immediately notice when the piece of wand in _her_ hand began to glow. When she _did_ see, it was too late.

It felt like something had grabbed her by the gut and pulled forward, making the forest disappear in one nauseating moment.

+++


	6. Stuck in the middle with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! They are much appreciated!

+++

The bastard turned his wand into a portkey.

That was Bill’s last thought before he felt the unwelcome tug of magic. Then everything became a blur, quite literally. 

Bill immediately felt a sense of alarm. He had traveled by portkey many times. This time felt distinctly different, however; accelerated somehow. Before he could even hazard a guess as to where Greyback was sending him, he was already being spit out — right over a large lake.

Startled, Bill was only just able to take a lungful of air before he found himself submerged in the icy cold water. 

Unfortunately, his new wand in one hand and the broken one in the other, he was unable to propel himself through the water effectively; instead sinking deeper and deeper despite his best efforts. Realizing that he needed at least one free hand to swim up to the surface, he finally let go of the broken wand. As it disappeared into the murky depths below, he began to swim again, this time much more effectively, using the faint light of the moon as his guide.

When he finally broke through the surface of the water, he took a few grateful breaths of air. Shame it was knocked out of him a moment later when something heavy landed on him, pushing him back under the water once again.

Momentarily stunned, Bill sank a few feet before he managed to gather his wits. Before he could swim back to the surface, however, a flash of gold caught his eye.

Buffy Summers, he realized. She had been transported as well, no doubt by the other half of his wand. And she was swimming down toward the bottom of the lake.

In mute horror, Bill watched as she sliced through the water, thinking that she must have been confused. After all, portkey travel could be rather disorienting, particularly when it was the traveler’s first time or if it was unexpected. She had the unfortunate luck of having both happen at the same time. Then he noticed the path she was taking; she was headed straight for that weapon of hers, which was rapidly sinking to the bottom. A moment later, they both disappeared from sight.

She wasn’t confused. She was mental. And yet, it was his fault she was in this situation at all.

With no choice but to swim after her, Bill dove down after her.

Thankfully, though he had no doubt someone of her ability was a strong swimmer, his arm span far outmatched hers. Within moments, he had her back in his sights.

It was a good thing, too. For although she had managed to reach her weapon, something else had, too; many somethings, in fact.

Bill grimaced as the swarm of grindylows surrounded her, grabbing both her and her possession with their tentacles. She was fighting them off admirably, but there were too many of them; she would drown before they relinquished their prize, and they knew it. She probably did as well, and yet the stubborn little chit wouldn’t let go.

Bill’s mind raced as he swam ever closer, struggling to think of what he could do.

Under normal circumstances, magic was the obvious choice; however, the blasted wand he had finally gotten from Ollivander was tempermental on the best of days. It was why he was unable to summon his old wand with a simple Accio in the woods, and it was why he hesitated to use it now. It would hardly do to save the girl by blasting her to bits with a miscast spell.

On the other hand, he did not have many other options, and she was visibly weakening.

At that exact moment, one of the grindylows managed to sneak behind her and wrap its tentacle around her neck, and his decision was made for him.

Bill pointed his wand at the creatures.

“ _Relashio!_ ”

The revulsion jinx came out of his mouth in a stream of bubbles. To his utter relief, however, it worked. A jet of boiling water shot at the grindylow, knocking it off of Buffy and sending it careening into a few others. As it began howling in obvious pain, the rest of little buggers momentarily back away, not wanting to risk being hit by another blast.

Bill seized his opportunity; though his lungs were screaming for air, he quickly closed the gap between him and Buffy and grabbed her around the waist. Then, using his last bit of breath, he swam as quickly as he could for the surface. Mercifully, she didn’t fight him.

The night air had never tasted so sweet. He greedily sucked it down the moment he felt it on his face. Beside him, he heard Buffy sputtering and coughing, half drowned that she was. There was no time to rest, though, not with the grindylows below them still.

With his arm still around Buffy, Bill began to swim for the shoreline. 

Unfortunately, it was a large lake, and they had managed to land almost squarely in the center. By the time they reached shallow water, Bill was good and knackered. Buffy was still limp, however, oddly so, so he forced himself to continue on, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her until his feet were on solid ground. It was only after he had gently deposited her on the ground that he finally allowed himself to sink to his knees in exhaustion.

“What the hell were those things?” 

Bill jerked his head up in surprise at the sound of Buffy’s voice, which was somewhat lower and hoarser than usual.

“Grindylows,” he replied. “Nasty little creatures, aren’t they?”

She didn’t respond; instead she stared at her feet, a haunted look on her face as she gingerly touched her neck. Gone was the incredibly strong, extremely fearsome Slayer; in her place, was a bedraggled, vulnerable girl.

Bill looked away, giving her a moment to collect herself. It was what any decent bloke would do. He and his brothers did it for each other all the time when one of them was caught out of sorts.

He used the opportunity to take a look around. Aside from the lake, which he hoped to never touch again, he saw an expanse of trees. From his vantage point, they seemed to slope upward. Beyond that was more trees, all of which formed an ominous canopy. None of it looked familiar.

Bill rubbed a tired hand over his face. He was a little surprised when his hand came away wet. In all the excitement, he had forgotten that he was soaked to the bone.

Holding his breath, he got to his feet and performed a quick Hot-Air Charm — one that sputtered out before the slightest puff of air could reach him. Turning a little red, he tried again, this time with much more success. 

He turned back toward Buffy, thinking to offer to do same for her; even though he knew full well there was just as much chance she would shove his wand up his arse as accept. Before he could put his life in peril, however, she got to her feet and came to stand next to him, her earlier mood gone as she coolly assessed her surroundings.

“How did we get here? And where are we?”

“Portkey,” he replied. “Greyback enchanted my broken wand to bring us here.”

Buffy frowned. “Why? The middle of a lake seems kind of strange. Unless he wanted those little gremlins finish us off?”

Bill swallowed his grin at her name for grindylows. “No, I imagine that’s not what he intended at all,” he said. “There’s a reason only ordinary, every day items are supposed to be used as portkeys. You don’t want the object’s own magic interfering with the magic of the portkey. The results could be disastrous — much worse than falling into a lake of grindylows.”

Part of him was surprised by how forthcoming he was being. The other part of him felt as if he owed it to her. Whether she appreciated it or not, he didn’t know. But then, that wasn’t the point.

She raised her eyebrow at him. “If you say so,” she retorted, her fingers ghosting the angry red marks on her neck. Then she drew in a sharp breath. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but how do we get out of here? Can the key thingy bring us back?”

Bill shook his head. “One way trip, I’m afraid.”

“Can you make another one then?”

Bill shook his head again, this time much more stiffly. “Magic has its limitations, one of them being distance. It’s dangerous to create a portkey — or travel by any other magical means — without knowing where we are or how far we are from our destination.” 

Add to that the trouble he was having with his wand, and he’d be a bloody fool to try anything as complicated as Apparating. Getting splinched would be the best possible scenario.

“So basically what you’re saying is that you’re useless.”

And just like that, she was under his skin again, all the previous goodwill he had been feeling gone.

Bill glared at her. “Yes, I suppose so, largely because someone broke my wand, and now I have one that hasn’t decided if it even likes me, let alone if it wants to work properly.”

She grinned at him, though in reality it was closer to a grimace. “Your wand has my complete sympathies.”

Bill felt his temper rise even further. She just met his gaze defiantly, daring him to do something.

They stared at each other, neither one willing to back down. Bill could feel the tension ratcheting up with each passing second. Before it could boil over, however, a sound echoed across the lake, distracting them both. 

It was the smallest sound, one that would not have caught their attention if they had not been standing on the edge of the lake. As it was, however, it carried over the still water quite easily. 

Bill and Buffy both turned in the direction from which it came. They both glimpsed something moving close to the water’s edge. 

“Greyback?” Buffy wondered aloud. 

“It’s possible, I suppose,” Bill said slowly.

And it was. They may not have landed exactly where Greyback wanted them to, but that didn’t mean they were that far off, either. Then again, they were in a forest, one where magical creatures lived, as evidenced by the grindylows. 

“It could also any other assortment of creatures, both magical and non-magical.”

Buffy nodded, and almost absently, touched her side, looking for something. It was an automatic reaction, one he assumed, came from being the Slayer, only this time, there was nothing there.

“Crap! My crossbow! And _Winnie!_ ” she exclaimed.

To his chagrin, she started to move toward the water again, as if she were thinking of diving back in and duelling the grindylows again. It was a losing battle. Her bow was probably halfway across the lake by now, possibly in pieces, courtesy of the nasty little gits. 

Bill quickly grabbed her arm to stop her from such a futile task. 

At his touch, she whirled on him, her eyes sparking. Fortunately, before she could act on it, Bill caught sight of something close to the shoreline.

“Look,” he hissed. 

Buffy turned just in time to see the trees shudder as something very large moved through them, seemingly heading straight for them. Even worse, while it was still a ways from them, it was significantly closer than it had been moments ago.

“I have to get—”

“There’s no time,” Bill interrupted. “What was that you said to me, not ten minutes ago? Greyback has the advantage here, and right now, between the two of us, we have no weapons and a defunct wand. We need to get the hell out of here, formulate a plan, and above all else, _not go off bloody half-cocked_.”

Eyes blazing again, she wrenched her arm away from him. To his surprise, she took a deep breath and nodded. 

“You’re right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

With that, she turned on her heel and melted into the treeline.

Bill ground his teeth and followed. His frustration was soon forgotten, however, as it took all his concentration to keep up; for she was quick and agile, moving effortlessly through the trees like a bloody wood sprite.

The pace was relentless. Trees rushed by them in a blur. Though at times Bill felt like his legs were going to collapse, he pressed on. 

Finally, eventually, Buffy came to an abrupt halt, throwing her arms up in frustration.

“What is this?! The Neverending Forest?”

Bill drew in a few deep puffs of air before responding. 

“It’s beginning to seem that way, isn’t it? Perhaps we should stop and rest for a bit, start again when the sun is up.”

She skewered him with a look. “Right, because I wouldn’t want to make it too difficult for Greyback to kill me in my sleep,” she retorted, gesturing to the lack of coverage around her. 

Bill smirked. “If you give me a few moments, I may be able to fix that.”

Without bothering to explain any further, he began walking once again toward a tiny outcropping of rock he spied just up ahead. It was nothing to speak of, really, just a large boulder or two, but it would do.

After a moment, he heard Buffy follow his lead. His smirk grew wider. Now all he needed was for his wand to behave itself. 

When he finally reached the rocks, he paused, waiting for Buffy to catch up. Once she was standing next to him, he raised his wand — ignoring the small snort of disdain next to him.

Since his last few spells had been successful, he was feeling a bit more confident this time around. Still, he felt a distinct sense of relief when he felt the spells settle into place. 

Five minutes later, the protection wards were complete.

Triumphant, he turned toward Buffy. 

“We’re safe, for now. Greyback — or anyone, for that matter — won’t be able to penetrate the shielding charms in place. Just stay within five meters of this boulder,” he said, pointing to the one closest to him. 

Buffy stared at the invisible boundary for a moment before looking back at him. He could see the conflicting emotions in her eyes, probably trying to decide whether to believe him or not. He half-expected her to just leave and go her own way. 

“I still don’t think this is the best idea,” she finally said. “A good night’s sleep — and I use that term loosely — isn’t going to change the fact that there’s no food or water.”

Bill shrugged noncommittally. “I believe I can help with that, too.”

As he spoke, he reached inside the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the magically shrunken tent he had stored there for precisely something like this. He set it just in front of the largest boulder and pointed his wand at it. 

“ _Engorgio_.”

A blue jet of light shot out of his wand and encircled the tent, enlarging it until it was its normal size. 

Smothering a triumphant grin, he turned toward Buffy, whose eyes were as wide as saucers as she stared at the tent. 

“After you,” he said, making a sweeping motion with his arm.

“Uh uh,” she replied. “I’m good.”

He could see the mistrust written all over her face. 

Feeling more annoyed than he cared for, Bill entered the tent. Though it was a little damp inside, the water repellant charm had, for the most part, held. He immediately headed over to the small pantry, grabbed a few apples, and stalked back outside. 

He tossed one of them to Buffy, who caught it deftly with one hand. 

“Eat it, toss it, do whatever you like with it. I would tell you that it’s not poisoned, but you wouldn’t believe me either way, would you?” he bit out.

Then he strode back into the tent and sat heavily in one of the chairs. Moodily, he ate the apple. Once he was finished, he forced himself to concentrate on the Greyback situation. 

One thing was certain; Greyback had set a trap for him. Whether he had known that Bill would come back to retrieve his wand was irrelevant. The bastard probably didn’t care. The important point was that he obviously wanted to capture Bill, probably hoping for a bit of sport before he killed him. 

It further bolstered his theory that Greyback had returned for one reason and one reason only: revenge. Because of this, it made him extremely dangerous. 

A slight noise outside the tent pulled him from his thoughts. 

Rising to his feet, Bill quickly made his way over to the flap of the tent and peered out. 

To his surprise, he saw that it was Buffy. He honestly thought she would’ve taken off by now. 

Curiously, he watched her as she sat a meter or two away from the tent, leaning against one of the smaller boulders. Then she closed her eyes, her breathing becoming slow and regulated. Before long, tiny beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. Yet she didn’t move, simply continuing to breath in and out in a slow rhythm. 

She must have stayed there for a better part of an hour. Some might have found it as thrilling as sitting through one of Binns’ lectures. Bill, however, was transfixed. He hadn’t thought her capable of the stillness with which she sat, as all his encounters with her pointed to the contrary. Even more unexpected was the sense of peace it brought with it. 

To his enormous regret, it was broken with startling abruptness soon thereafter. 

Without warning, Buffy leapt to her feet with a look of victory. And in her hand was a gleaming sword.

Bill stared at her in disbelief. 

Somehow she had summoned her sword — _through_ his wards. 

Perhaps sensing his shock, she looked over at him. The look on her face, while not hostile, didn’t invite any questions. So Bill simply turned and moved back into the tent. 

Soon, he was ready to turn for the night. Before he settled into his cot, he looked at the opening of the tent. He hadn’t heard a single sound since she had retrieved her sword. She was probably long gone by now. 

With a sigh, he laid down, eventually falling into an uneasy sleep as his mind continued to mull over what had happened.

He awoke later in the night with a start. Thinking he heard something outside, he threw back the covers and made a beeline for the flap of the tent.

He was astonished to see that Buffy was still there, leaning against the rock, fast asleep, sword still in hand.

She looked miserable. Her clothes were obviously still damp, and she was shivering. 

Bill hesitated for a moment before grabbing one of the blankets off the cot. Then, as quietly as he could, he walked over to her. 

When he got within half a meter, her eyes snapped open, her hand tightening around her sword. Though she relaxed a little when she saw it was him, she was still wary. 

He held up the blanket to show his intentions. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. Then she nodded.

Encouraged, Bill closed the distance and handed her the blanket. 

With what could only be described as a sigh of sheer bliss, she drew the blanket around her like a cocoon. With a brief look up, she muttered a thank you before her eyes fluttered shut.

Taking his cue, Bill started to turn to go back into the tent. As he did, however, he spotted something lying next to her; the apple, eaten down to the core. 

Bill shook his head. 

The girl confused him beyond the point of reason. Though he would never say this aloud — he did have some sense of self-preservation after all — he constantly felt a bit like he was offering a bit of meat to a hippogriff, where the beast was either going to accept the gift and become the best of chums with him, or it was going to bite his hand off and he’d be forced to spend the rest of his days learning how to cast magic with his other hand. And yet avoiding her seemed impossible, particularly in light of their current predicament. He had little choice but to make the best of the situation. 

He just hoped he had all his limbs attached when all this was over with.

+++


	7. Into the Woods

+++

When Buffy woke the next morning, she could hardly believe her eyes.

The forest had completely transformed overnight. Gone was the land of homicidal fish. Before her now was a peaceful woodland oasis, complete with morning dew and filtered sunlight.

And yet it didn’t improve her mood in the slightest. 

A little sunlight wouldn’t help her backache, courtesy of the rock she had slept against all night, and it definitely wouldn’t fix the way her hair was plastered against her head in stringy, partially frozen mess. And all the tranquility in the world didn’t change the fact that a crazy werewolf was out there, hunting her. If anything, it all just reminded her of how _little_ control she had out here. 

With a grimace, Buffy began to get up, thinking that she should do a perimeter check. As she stood, however, something fluttered to the ground.

The blanket.

Buffy glanced over at the tent where Bill Weasley was presumably still sleeping and made a face. 

Before last night, she had been more than happy to write the guy off. Preferred it, even. Then he had to go and mess it all up.

It wasn’t just because he had saved her life, either, though that obviously won him some major brownie points. It was everything.

Last night had not been one of her finer nights. Her near drowning had shaken her more than she would ever admit; any water-related danger tended to do that, thanks to the Master. As a result, it had put her in a really bad head space. 

Bill had borne the brunt of that -- pretty well, all things considered. Definitely within the realm of reason, the way she had been needling him. Then he had gone one step further and gave her the stupid blanket. 

On the surface, it seemed like such a small gesture. Buffy knew, however, that it was one a pettier person wouldn’t have made, especially after the way she had thrown all his previous offers of help back in his face. And it was done without a single ‘I told you so’. 

It was time to face facts. Bill Weasley was a decent guy. She just didn’t trust him. 

Buffy looked down at the blanket again and sighed. 

If only it hadn’t been for that first run-in. Though she knew that people made mistakes, it was hard to give a second chance to him for something like that -- even _if_ he was the only help she was going to get in the foreseeable future.

Buffy shook her head. She needed to focus on one thing and one thing only; getting the hell out of Dodge. Though Greyback hadn’t attacked last night, it was only a matter of time. She wanted to be as far away from the Fire Swamp as possible when that happened. 

Scooping the blanket off the ground, she quickly folded it and placed it on the nearest boulder. Then she picked Winnie up and began her walk around the perimeter, which was surprisingly easy to find, thanks to Bill’s shield -- or more specifically, the circle of fallen leaves around it, unable to breach the invisible barrier. 

Buffy had to admit, it was a fascinating feat of magic, even more so in the light of day. Knowing Bill had set it up was one thing. She had even _felt_ it; it was the only reason she had gotten any sleep at all. But seeing it in action, even after a whole night... 

It definitely gave her something to mull over as she continued her scan, too much so. By the time she had reached her original boulder, she had all sorts of crazy thoughts in her head. 

Clearly, all the magic was messing with her -- though not as much as nature was at the moment; as Buffy stood there, contemplating her next move, it began calling her in a very personal, very urgent way.

At first, she tried to ignore it, horrified at the thought of going in the woods. As the seconds continued to tick by -- and the pressure began to build almost painfully -- she knew she had no choice. 

And just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse. 

Buffy bit her lip as she glanced toward the tent. It seemed quiet in there, and there wasn’t anyone else around, so…

As quietly as she could, she dashed for the tree farthest away from the tent yet still within the barrier, because she did not need that kind of embarrassment. As it was, she was half-convinced Greyback was going to attack at that moment regardless of whether she was in circle of protection or not; it was just that kind of day. She then did her business as quickly as she could and ran back to the boulder, putting as much distance between her and the incriminating evidence. 

It was a good thing she did, too. Not a minute later, Bill came out of the tent. Buffy tensed, watching him out of the corner of her eye as looked for any flinch of comprehension, any wayward glance over toward the tree, any slight sniff of air, but it never came. His eyes were on her, his smile tentative, as he walked toward her.

For once, she thanked all that was holy for his underdeveloped wolf skills. 

His appearance was another thing, though. To her annoyance, he was in a set of clean clothes and his long hair was perfectly coiffed, a marked contrast to Buffy’s own state. Before she could begrudge him too much, however, she noticed that he had food in his hand -- or more specifically, that he was holding the food out to her. 

She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until that moment. This time she didn’t hesitate to take it from him. She took a huge bite of apple as soon as it was in her hand. 

A piece of fruit never tasted so good. 

With a mouthful of apple, she looked up at Bill and said a quick thanks before she devoured the rest of it. Then she started on the bread. 

Bill’s mouth twitched ever so slightly before he sat down beside her so they were both facing out into the woods. “It isn’t much, but hopefully it will do for now. I have some water here as well,” he said, pulling a bottle of water out of his pocket for her, which she took. 

For a few minutes, they ate in silence. Out of habit, Buffy kept her eyes on the horizon, continuously checking for anything suspicious. 

“Is something out there?”

Buffy arched her eyebrow as she glanced at him. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

The words were out before she could stop them. It was like she was helpless to stop needling the guy, regardless of how nice he was to her. Whether it was because she honestly wanted to help him or if it was her passive aggressive way of getting back at him for the attempted memory assault, she didn’t know. 

Still, she refused to feel bad about it. It was a valid point either way -- even if it was extremely hypocritical of her, considering she was just doing the dance of joy for his underdeveloped wolf abilities.

Though his eyes flashed and his whole body tensed with anger, he didn’t say anything. He just looked down at the ground in front of him. 

It was a full five minutes before Bill moved, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out before he turned toward her.

“I know this probably doesn’t mean much, but I truly am sorry I tried to erase your memory,” he said quietly.

Buffy immediately stiffened, the air suddenly becoming heavy and awkward. She didn’t know what to say, because she wasn’t okay with it. 

Obviously uncomfortable himself, Bill nervously continued on. “I know you aren’t going to like hearing this, but it is standard practice for us, to keep our existence a secret, though admittedly it’s usually done by a Ministry official.” 

That threw Buffy for a loop, but she recovered quickly. “State sanctioned or not, it still doesn’t make it right.”

Bill shrugged. “Maybe not. It wasn’t meant as an excuse, just an explanation,” he said cautiously. 

Not wanting to continue the conversation any more, she jumped to her feet. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

His brows furrowed in confusion at this, and she ruthlessly took advantage, gathering all their trash and the blanket. When she risked a glance at Bill, she saw that he hadn’t moved; he just sat there, studying her with a thoughtful look on his face. It disappeared as soon as he realized she had noticed, however, and he scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll take that for you,” he said, nodding toward the stuff she had in her hands. 

Buffy nodded stiffly and handed it over, careful not to touch him in the transfer. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. He simply took the trash and blanket and began walking back to the tent. When he was about halfway, however, he stopped and turned back. 

“I, er, it isn’t much, but if you need to use the loo, there’s one in the tent,” he said.

Buffy immediately flushed red. There was a bathroom in tent? If only she had known. Then again, without indoor plumbing, using it might have been more humiliating, even if Bill could use magic to clean it. 

“Uh, no thanks,” she replied tersely, hoping he would take the hint and drop it. 

Thankfully, he did. Though he looked like he wanted to say something more, he turned on his heel and continued on his way. 

Five minutes later, they were just about ready to go. Bill had shrunken his tent down to pocket-size and Buffy had done her best to erase all evidence that they had been there, for all the good it may or may not have done. 

“You have any idea how to get out of the tenth circle of Hell?” Buffy asked as she made sure Winnie was securely attached to her back. 

“Not a clue,” Bill admitted. 

Buffy sighed. “Well, that makes two of us. We’ll just figure it out as we go along, I guess.”

He nodded. “Just let me do one last clean up, bring down the wards, and we can be on our way.” 

He lifted his wand and muttered some words that sounded like Latin while swishing his wand in an intricate pattern. 

For a split second, Buffy thought that maybe she had missed whatever was supposed to happen. Then she heard Bill’s angry muttering. 

It took her by surprise. Though she remembered that Bill had said something about having trouble with his wand, he had just used it to shrink the tent; or at least she assumed so. She hadn’t actually seen it, as she was busy doing her own thing… 

A funny but mean thought flashed across through her mind. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Performance anxiety?” she taunted.

Bill’s ears turning bright pink with embarrassment. 

“I can assure you that has never been an issue,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“According to you,” she said airily.

With a huff, he turned toward her.

“Merlin, woman, you have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he said. When she started to reply, he held up his hand. “That was a rhetorical question. We might not ever get out of here, otherwise.”

She was all set to lay into him, yet another scathing retort on her tongue, when she realized he was right. They could go back and forth all day, and it wouldn’t bring them any closer to escaping. 

Not willing to totally concede, Buffy settled for a scorching glare.

Amused, Bill turned back to the task at hand.

The second time was much more successful. Buffy felt the invisible barrier disappear. Less than a heartbeat later, she felt the slight breeze in the air as the leaves scattered, covering the forest floor in a more uniform pattern. 

Bill looked over at her. “Ready to go?”

+++

They began their trek in relative silence, which was fine with Buffy. She needed to concentrate on her surroundings. Like any forest, there were creatures that lived in it. Though they all fled as soon as she spotted them, she wasn’t taking any chances, keeping an eye on each and every on until they were out of sight, especially since, judging by their silhouettes, they weren’t the average squirrel.

As more time passed and she felt more comfortable picking out the sounds around her, however, her mind began to drift toward her conversation with Bill earlier that morning. One thought in particular echoed in her mind. 

The Wizarding government wiped people’s memories on what sounded like a routine basis. 

The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her. She had so many questions, and they were all dying to get out. When they finally stopped to take a break, she couldn’t hold them in any longer. The second Bill’s protective shields were up, they all came spilling out.

“I need to know more about this memory erasing power of yours. Who decides when to use it? Do you use it on each other? Why isn’t it considered illegal? I mean, you’re messing with someone’s mind against their will.”

Bill blinked, obviously taken aback by the onslaught of questions, before he slowly cleared his throat. 

“Muggles… don’t tend to react well to seeing magic. You’ve seen proof of that throughout history. Therefore, whenever a Muggle has seen more than they should, the memory of what they witnessed is erased. Depending on the severity of the magic performed, the offending witch or wizard may also be punished. We have a department within the Ministry whose sole function is to handle these kinds of matters,” he explained. He paused then, shifting uncomfortably for a moment before continuing. “Using Memory Charms on other wizards is… not condoned, but it is next to impossible to monitor or regulate. I would be lying if I said that no one has taken advantage of that. Still, while it’s not considered an Unforgivable curse, the casting of which will assure you a cell in Azkaban, there can be serious repercussions if you’re caught. And then of course there’s always the moral implications--”

“Which somehow don’t apply to non-magical people,” she said darkly. 

Bill had no response to that -- or maybe he knew enough not to say anything.

Buffy closed her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to wrap her brain around it all. 

She understood a little bit better where Bill was coming from, and Wizards obviously didn’t take full advantage of their capabilities, seeing as they didn’t rule the world with mindless zombies at their beck and call. But…

It was the principle of the matter. It was such a violation, an abuse of power. Besides, even if the government could use their powers ‘responsibly’ -- and she used that word loosely -- anyone could obviously do it. Bill had tried it on her, and as she finally admitted earlier, he was one of the good guys.  


Then it hit her. _Bill_ had tried it on her. 

Buffy’s eyes snapped up to meet his. 

“You’ve mentioned a few times that someone from your Ministry usually erases the memory. So why did you try to do it the other night?”

Bill turned slightly red at this. “Ah, yes, about that. Normally, the Ministry would be notified that magic was performed in front of a Muggle. It’s my duty to report it as well, but… you see, I’m not exactly high on their list right now. They don’t believe that Greyback is alive. No one does, not even my family. They don’t want to believe. The Ministry would just as soon lock me up than admit it, so between me performing magic in front of a Muggle and you spouting off about looking for Greyback yourself…” he shrugged. “I thought it was in both our best interests if I took care of the matter myself.” 

Though he tried to pass all this off as nonchalantly as he could, Buffy could see the whole situation was a giant sore spot for him. 

It made her really uncomfortable. They were no where near that level of share mode, and she didn’t want to be. At the same time, she could totally sympathize. She still remembered the day she had sent Angel to Hell, how much it had hurt when her mother refused to believe that she was the Slayer, despite all evidence to the contrary… 

Crap, Buffy thought to herself. She felt bad for him. 

Wanting to put the brakes on that, she quickly changed the subject.“Will you get in trouble for that? And will you get in trouble for telling me and my non-magical self all of this?”

Bill gave her a small smile. “You’re a Vampire Slayer, which makes you exempt. Well, unless of course you try to sell the story to the gossip rags. But I get the sense you understand the importance of keeping some secrets,” he said, his tone almost teasing. Then he cocked his head to the side curiously. “How do you ensure your own identity stays secret? From what I’ve read, the Watcher’s Council very much operates under cloak and dagger.”

“I-- we--,” Buffy started. 

But she was stumped. She knew firsthand how unscrupulous the Council used to be. She had to think that they had done something as low as messing with someone’s memory. They had their own version of Special Forces, for godsakes.

And now that she thought about it, while she herself had never done anything drastic to keep her identity a secret, aside from a little lie now and then, what would she be willing to do if it came down to it? Or maybe more importantly, what would she do to protect the other girls? Now that there were so many of them now, the risk of exposure increased exponentially, and it was a lot to hope that the entire world would come down with a case of Sunnydale Syndrome. And yet it was something she and the others had never discussed. It had never occurred to them. 

Realizing that Bill was still waiting for an answer, Buffy shrugged. “That Council doesn’t exist anymore. It’s under new management now. Anyway, thanks for answering my questions. It helps me… understand. We should probably go, though. Burning daylight and all.”

From the look on his face, he wasn’t happy with her evasive maneuvering. He didn’t argue, though. Come to think of it, he had been backing down a lot today, careful not to provoke her. She wasn’t sure whether to be happy or annoyed.

+++

As they continued to trudge through the forest, Buffy came to three realizations.

The first was that Bill was clearly no stranger to this kind of thing. 

She supposed she shouldn’t have been so surprised. According to Willow, he had survived a war. Because she had seen the way he relied on magic for everything, however, she just had assumed that, aside from having a killer bicep in right arm from all that waving, he wouldn’t be up for the physical challenge. He kept step with her the entire time, though, over what was sometimes punishing terrain. And he was a quick learner, to boot. After watching the way she scoped out an area a few times, he began to do it himself. And she learned a thing or two from him when it came to flushing out magic.

All in all, werewolf suppression aside, the guy wasn’t half bad out here. 

Her second realization was that Bill always made sure he was on her left. She even tested her theory out a few times, finding one reason or another to switch sides. Though he tolerated it for a few minutes, he would end up back on her left soon after. 

While she could have chalked up to some OCD habit, she thought it had more to do with the scars running down the left side of his face. 

The third and most troubling revelation was that they had been walking for miles and miles without any clue of where they were with no foreseeable end in sight. 

“I’m trying not to panic here, but we’ve been walking for hours and yet we’re not any closer to getting out of here than we were this morning,” she finally said. 

“I know,” Bill replied, looking equally unhappy. “Based on the flora and fauna, I think it’s reasonably safe to assume we’re still in Europe, but I don’t know much more than that.”

Buffy frowned. “Really? If that were true, wouldn’t we have come across something by now, even just a trail? Europe isn’t exactly uncharted territory.” 

He glanced over at her, his eyebrow quirked. “Its magical forests are. Hidden from Muggles as well, so they don’t come across any unwelcome beasts in their travels.”

Buffy stopped in her tracks, stunned by his statement. “Of course they are. I should have guessed,” she groaned. Then she scowled at Bill’s back as he continued to forge ahead. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re laughing at--”

The words died in her throat as she heard something faint in the distance. 

Not too surprisingly, Bill had heard nothing. When she stopped talking so suddenly, he turned toward her with a look of concern.

“Buffy, are you--”

“Shh!” she interrupted. “Listen!”

He didn’t argue with her. Though he may not have heard it before, there was no way he could miss it now. There was something out there, something moving with a speed and force no normal woodland creature possessed, and it was heading straight for them. 

“We need to find cover. Now.” 

Buffy and Bill quickly looked around for someplace to hide. Unfortunately, there were only trees in the immediate vicinity, and none of them provided much cover. The only real place to go was up.

By unspoken agreement, they both made a beeline for two large, sturdy looking pines. Unfortunately, though definitely climbable, the lowest branch was well out of Buffy’s reach. 

“May I?” Bill asked, holding up his wand. 

Buffy dismissed his offer out of hand. “I got this.”

With Bill’s eyes on her, she took a dozen steps back. Then she sprinted headlong toward the tree. She waited until she was only two feet away before she jumped. Instead of aiming for the branch, however, she leapt for the trunk, planting her right foot on bark before pushing off as forcefully as she could, sending her up and away from the tree. 

Arms outstretched, she grabbed onto the branch with inches to spare. 

From there, it was a piece of cake. A few swings and scrambles later, and she was tucked away up in the canopy. Smugly, she looked down at Bill, who looked sufficiently impressed. 

Then he waved his wand. 

" _Levicorpus._ ”

Buffy watched with a scowl as he floated up to a branch right next to hers. 

“Cheater,” she muttered under her breath. 

Bill smirked but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have time. With a loud crash, the creature finally came into sight about a quarter mile away. 

It looked like a cross between a bull and elephant on steroids. Seriously. In sheer mass alone, it was impressive. And purple. Then there was its horns, enormous golden spears sharpened to a wicked point. Buffy’s eyes went wide as she watched it charge full steam ahead in their direction. 

Beside her, Bill swore ripely. 

“It’s a Graphorn. Powerful beast with the aggression to match. Its hide is particularly thick, so magic won’t be much use against it,” he whispered. Then he frowned, furious with himself. “I didn’t see its territorial markings anywhere. I don’t how I missed them.” 

Because giving him a hard time was apparently becoming second nature, Buffy had a retort all set to go. This time, however, she held back. After all, it wasn’t like she had seen anything, either, and she had a feeling it was pretty hard to miss anything that thing marked. 

As if to prove her point, the creature began thrashing its head from side to side, taking out everything in its path as it drew closer and closer to where they were. 

Buffy held her breath, hoping it would just pass them by. 

It was a lost cause. 

The second the Graphorn crossed the path they had been on, it stopped in its tracks and began making these weird snorting sounds as it scented the air. It quickly found what it was looking for, its eyes snapping up to where Buffy and Bill were hiding -- though Buffy could’ve sworn it was trained only on her. 

With an enraged howl, it charged. 

“Oh, shi--” Buffy began to say, but she never got to finish. 

She was already leaping out of the tree onto another one as fast as she could -- one that was in the opposite direction of Bill. 

There was a huge crack as the Graphorn made contact with the first tree, snapping it in half.

Buffy didn’t have time to dwell on this. The crazy beast was already heading toward her new perch -- though not before it gave a cursory glance toward Bill. 

That all but confirmed her suspicions. It was after her and her alone.

She had to act fast. As long as she was up in that tree, she was a sitting duck. Her only chance was to fight. 

“Stay up here and don’t move,” she called out to Bill as she drew her sword out of its scabbard.

This did not sit well with him. “What are you doing?” 

“Ending this, one way or another,” Buffy said grimly. “Stay. I mean it.”

Without checking to see if he would listen, she jumped. 

Her plan was to land behind the Graphorn and get the advantage. Unfortunately, she was a hair too slow. As she jumped, the creature slammed into the tree, sending her spiraling to the ground off-kilter. When she landed, she felt her knees painfully buckle underneath her as she tucked into a somersault. 

She didn’t have time to worry about it, though. Before she was even on her feet, the Graphorn charged at her, slashing wildly with its horns. Buffy only just managed to get her sword up in time. Even then, she wasn’t prepared for its brute strength, and it tossed her easily into the trunk of a tree. 

She heard Bill call out to her, but she ignored him and focused on the Graphorn, who was practically on top of her already. This time, she managed to plant her feet and leaned forward as her sword met the beast’s horns once again. 

The subsequent clash sent jarring vibrations racing up her arms. Still, she held fast. Her feet had less luck, though, and began to slide backward into the tree. Sadly, all the strength in the world couldn’t make up for the fact that the thing seriously outweighed her. 

Knowing that speed was her best weapon, she wrenched her sword to the side, sending the Graphorn’s head careening to the side with the momentum. Before it could attack again, she ducked low and sliced it across its chest -- not deep enough to kill or even maim, just enough to give her the chance to escape from her position pinned between the Graphorn and the tree. 

At least, that was the plan. 

Bill was right. The Graphorn’s hide was ridiculously thick. If she had a regular sword, Buffy wasn’t even sure she would have made a scratch. As it was, she barely nicked it, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. 

Thankfully, it was enough. Snarling, the Graphorn reared back on its hind legs in anger, probably not used to any kind of injury, let alone from a mere human. 

Buffy seized her opportunity and threw herself bodily to the left in a diving roll. 

It was just in time. As she rolled away, the Graphorn drove its front paws into the ground, right where she had been seconds ago. Then, moving faster than any creature its size had a right to, it reared up again, obviously intending to smash down on her before she could get to her feet and defend herself. 

It was going to be close. 

“Buffy, stay down!”

Bill again. He was close by, back on the ground somewhere, and it sounded like he had a plan. 

Buffy found herself wracked with indecision. It was a trust exercise with someone she didn’t trust.

As she warred with herself, the decision was made for her. No sooner was she out of her roll into a crouch when a tree trunk came flying through the air and slammed into the Graphorn -- who was two seconds away from crushing her like a bug. 

The animal let out an enraged howl as it fell to the ground, stunned by the impact. 

Buffy leapt to her feet. Though she had her sword held tightly in her hand, she didn’t move any further, frozen in indecision for the second time in as many minutes. 

She really didn’t want to kill the thing, not unless it gave her no choice. It wasn’t a demon or anything, and really, she was in its territory. As it lay there on the ground, its breath coming out in labored pants, it looked particularly pitiful. 

Making up her mind, Buffy slowly backed away. Sure, she kept her sword raised -- because she wasn’t stupid -- but she put space between them to show she wasn’t a threat. 

Behind her, she could hear that Bill was also moving, slowly inching toward her until he was standing next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he was following her lead; his wand was extended, but he didn’t do anything to provoke the creature.

For a long moment, the Graphorn didn’t move, its eyes moving skittishly from Buffy to Bill. It wasn’ t until it was sure they weren’t going to attack that it leapt to its feet. From the way it began staggering from side to side, it was obviously still reeling from the blow it took. Then, in full fight or flight mode, it turned tail and ran, stumbling in the direction it had originally come from. 

“You are insane. You know that, right?”

Buffy turned and made a face at Bill. “I had to do something. Besides, I was under the impression you would be useless.”

It was practically the same words she had hurled at him the other night. This time there was no heat to her words, though. From the look on his face, Bill knew it, too. 

“I said that magic wouldn’t work on the Graphorn. That doesn’t mean I can’t use magic around it,” he explained, obviously pleased with himself. 

Buffy rolled her eyes. She chose to survey the wreckage around her rather than dignify his smugness with a response. Of course, as soon as she did, she realized that she hadn’t thanked him for his help -- even though she wasn’t convinced that she had needed it. 

Feeling more than a little awkward, she turned toward him. “Listen, Bill, I--”

“Hey, where do you suppose this came from?” he interrupted, picking something up from the ground. 

It was a shredded piece of pink fabric, one fashioned in a cable knit pattern. 

Buffy blinked. She recognized it immediately. It was, after all, one of her favorite patrolling sweaters. She had packed in her bag the previous night, before she had lost it. 

“That’s mine,” she said tersely, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of it all. There was no way it could be here, unless… “We need to follow that Graphorn.”

Bill understood immediately. “I realize I may be stating the obvious here, but this is could be a trap.”

“‘I always think everything is a trap, which is why I’m still alive,’” she quipped. When she received a confused look, she sighed. “I know. But what choice do we have? Are you going to pass up this chance?”

Bill gave a grim smile. “Of course not. I just thought it should be said. Let’s go.”

The trail was easy enough to follow; it was hard to miss the wreckage. Finding the Graphorn was another story. Even wounded, the thing moved with incredible speed, not to mention it had a head start. 

They, on the other hand, had to move very slowly, continually peering around every corner -- so to speak -- to make sure the coast was clear before proceeding. The only saving grace was that, between spending the whole day hiking through the forest together and good old fashioned adrenaline, Buffy and Bill managed to develop a pretty good system between the two of them.

They were just about a mile in when the most horrific sound rent the air. It was the same noise the Graphorn had made when it had first spotted Buffy, with one important difference. This time, it had an overwhelming tone of pain and suffering. 

It sounded like an animal dying.

With saying a word, Buffy and Bill picked up their pace as much as they could. Still, it took too long. By the time they reached the Graphorn, it felt like a lifetime had passed them by. For the Graphorn, it had, and then some. 

As Buffy surveyed the carnage, she vowed then and there to do whatever it took to stop Greyback. 

For there, less than twenty feet away was a dead baby Graphorn. It had huge chunks missing from it, obviously eaten. Judging by the amount that was gone, it had been dead for awhile. Scattered around it were the remnants of her backpack. 

Not far away from it was the Graphorn she had fought; the mother. It, too, was dead. Though she couldn’t see any bite marks, it obviously hadn’t met a peaceful end, either. It was completely gutted, ripped open from sternum to tail. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, its guts were splayed out on the ground in a very purposeful way. 

It was a message, one written just for her. 

_WHO ARE YOU_

+++

A/N: Sorry if this chapter was a bit long! I know I myself start to get cross-eyed after I read 4K words in one chapter, but I had a lot of story I needed to tell here. 


	8. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Dragon Fire

+++

Bill stared down at the dead Graphorns. The poor beasts had been nothing more than pawns in Greyback’s plan; once they served their purpose, they were no longer of any use.

And yet, Bill had to wonder, how had Greyback pulled it off? Graphorns were ferocious creatures. Though it looked as though the cut from Buffy’s sword may have provided a chink in the armor -- one that was brutally exploited by werewolf claws -- it still would have taken an enormous feat of strength and precision to kill the mother, not to mention a fair bit of luck.

“We need to get out of here. Now.”

Buffy’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Bill heard it loud and clear, snapping him from his own train of thought. 

It was a good thing, too. He had been so focused on the Graphorns, he hadn’t noticed the shift in the air, the way it had suddenly become heavy and foul with magic and… something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

Apparently, it was a trap after all. 

Part of Bill wanted to stay and fight, but deep down he knew that wasn’t possible. They had to be smart. Greyback was dictating far too many terms for his liking -- Merlin only knew what they had just stepped into -- and Bill was done playing into the bastard’s hand, particularly in light of his apparent interest in Buffy. 

Buffy was right; they needed to leave, right away. The only question was how.

Running was an option, of course, but it wasn’t a very good one, all things considered. Other than that, their only real choice was Apparating.

Before that very moment, Bill would have dismissed the idea outright. Throughout the course of the day, however, something had changed. As they had hiked, he had begun stretching his senses, exactly as Buffy had been badgering him to do, out of sheer necessity. Though it was incredibly difficult -- he was pants at it, really, learning more from observing Buffy than his own pathetic abilities -- he had _tried_ , and as a result, he felt more focused than he had in months. What’s more, he and his wand were suddenly along marvelously, their connection only growing stronger with every spell he cast.

He knew in his bones that he could Apparate them to someplace safe -- as long as Greyback hadn’t cast an Anti-Disapparition Jinx. It was worth a shot, at the very least. That kind of spell could be tricky outdoors with no natural barriers or boundaries, and for what Greyback had in power he lacked in finesse. Bill just needed to do it quickly without detection.

Under the guise of comforting her, he put his arm around Buffy. If it bothered her, she didn’t show it. Encouraged, he leaned down toward her ear.

“I can get us out, but you have to trust me.”

Buffy hesitated for the briefest moment, her gaze flickering down to his wand, before giving the smallest nod. 

That was good enough for him. In one smooth movement, he slid his hand from her arm to her waist and spun on his heel for all he was worth. 

To his great relief, it worked. The forest in front of him vanished; a moment later, they were at the edge of the lake, the one they had fallen into the previous night. It was as far as he dared take them, still having no idea where they were. 

Beside him, he heard Buffy gasp. Bill immediately released her from his grasp; or at least he tried to. Though she was handling her first Side-Along Apparition remarkably well, there was no disguising the death grip she had on his shirt, or the way she leaned heavily on him for support. 

It was a full beat before she was steady enough on her feet to let go, giving him an incredulous look as she moved away. 

“ _That_ is how you guys travel?”

“You get used to it,” he replied. 

Buffy scoffed at him. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

Bill shook his head. Now that he had Apparition back in his arsenal, he had a plan. “You’ll have to do more than that. I can only Apparate us to places I know or see. Greyback knows that. This will be one of the first places he looks. We need to move, immediately, first to the other side of the lake, and then small jumps from there. It’s the only way to keep him off our scent.”

Clearly, defeat was not an easy concept for her. Buffy looked as though she were going to argue. In the end, however, she simply sighed, knowing he was right. “Alright, beam me up, Scotty.”

Bill must have been getting better at decoding the peculiar way she spoke. Though there were still some parts that were lost on him -- and probably always would be -- he understood the gist of what she was saying. Consequently, whe held out his hand, he knew she would take it -- which made it all the more surprising when she pulled back a moment later. 

“Wait, I thought you said that your wand doesn’t like you.”

Bill was not ready to explain it all to her, nor did they have the time, so he simply said, “We’ve come to an understanding.” 

Buffy scowled; the look was not aimed at him, however, but at his wand. He distinctly heard her mutter “Traitor” as she took his hand again. 

But take it she did. Bill felt inordinately pleased by this; of course, it was soon tempered by the crushing grip she had on his hand, the only sign of nervousness in her otherwise calm appearance. 

“Right then,” he murmured, doing his damnedest not to outwardly wince. “Let’s get this over with.” 

With that, they were off. 

As promised, Bill set his sights on the opposite shore of the lake. From there, a little clearing on a hill. On and on, they made little jumps like that. Sometimes they had to walk a bit until Bill could get a clear visual of the place they would Apparate to. The entire process left them exposed for a stretch, but it was better than having him Apparate them into a tree. 

They traveled like that until night fell and it was too dark to continue. It was just as well. By that point, Bill was completely knackered, and Buffy was as green as gillyweed.

+++

They didn’t set up the tent that night, save to grab some food and use the loo, both agreeing that they needed to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. Instead, they sat with their backs against a tree on opposite sides so that they had a 360 degree view of their surroundings; Buffy with her sword in her hand, and Bill with his wand in his.

At first, Bill vigilantly stared into the darkness, looking for the slightest indication Greyback was near. As the night wore on, however, he found himself glancing down at his wand more and more. 

It was a curious thing. Ebony with a dragon heartstring core. 

When Ollivander had first brought it out of the stacks, Bill had been resentful. Though he was far from being any kind of expert in wandlore, he knew enough about both the wood and wand core to know he wanted nothing to do with either. 

Dragon heartstring was notoriously temperamental, which was the last thing he needed. As for the ebony… Though Ollivander stressed that that particular wood matched those who were steadfast in purpose, Bill knew that wasn’t the whole story. It was also for those strong in intuition and emotion -- and for those who had the courage to be themselves, despite the cost. 

It was like a punch to the gut. 

It affirmed everything Buffy had been telling him, as if somehow, she knew him better than he knew himself. Hell, it meant that even that old goat Ollivander knew. And it annoyed the shite out of him, particularly because they were right. 

Thus, he had been purposefully ignoring it ever since then. Now, however, he couldn’t help but give it a good look over; for now, after the day’s revelations, he could finally admit that he needed to embrace who he was if he ever wanted to stop Greyback. 

The harder part was to accept what would come after that.

+++

Morning came far too quickly for Bill. Though they had taken shifts sleeping throughout the night, he was still exhausted. He was also starving. He wasn’t used to eating so little, particularly not for such an extended time. Yet his stores were running low, which meant their meals were becoming smaller and smaller.

It was suffice to say that he was not the best company that morning, and because of that, he didn’t immediately recognize the signs that Buffy was in distress. Instead, he watched with a growl in his throat as she flitted about, seemingly unaffected by the lack of food or sleep. Only when she became practically manic in her movements as they prepared to leave did he realize what was going on. 

“Buffy,” he said quietly, the sound of his voice stopping her in her tracks. “Apparating is safest way for us to travel right now.”

She took a deep breath before turning to look at him. “I know, but… it feels like I can’t breathe, or move. It… it feels like I’m suffocating,” she admitted. Then, perhaps feeling like she’d said more than she intended, she added, “And not to question a good thing or anything, but what’s changed between you and your wand? You said you’ve come to an understanding, but what the heck does that mean? Did you give it a stern talking to?”

Her eyes glinted with humor at this last part. Bill was fairly certain she was envisioning him scolding what to her was nothing but a stick of wood. 

Bill made a face, both to convey his opinion of her joke and to buy himself some time as he tried to decide how to respond. 

If he answered completely and honestly, he would open himself up to her scrutiny once again. A glib retort would be a disservice to her, however, particularly when she was clearly feeling a little raw from her own admission. 

He had no choice. It was time to come clean.

“It appears my wand agrees with you. I can’t just rely on being a Wizard,” he admitted. “The more I open myself to… other abilities, the more it behaves.”

She was clearly taken aback by this. She recovered quickly, though, as she digested what exactly he was -- and was not -- saying. 

“But you don’t like it, do you?” she asked, quite perceptively. When he shook his head, she bit her lip, a pensive look on her face. “At the risk of winning Broken Record of the Year, you really shouldn’t deny it. It’s a part of you, whether you like it or not. The more you fight it, the more you’ll be hurting.” 

Bill nodded. “Part of me knows you’re right, but… you don’t understand,” he said. “Being a werewolf, it changes you, makes you someone different than who you were, until those you love most recoil from you in fear and disgust, until no one will hire you or allow you to patronize their establishments and you’re subject to certain Ministry regulations -- until you’re essentially shunned from society.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped at this. “But that’s discrimination!” she exclaimed.

When Bill just shrugged, her anger turned to full-blown outrage.

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard of! I mean, sure, for three days of the month, you want to make sure a werewolf won’t hurt anyone, but they’re still people, too! Don’t you have any laws for this, or say, a Civils Rights Movement? I mean, seriously, this is the twenty first century, and you’re _wizards_. With _magic_. I would think you of all people would be accepting of the supernatural. How is this okay? And if you’re scared of werewolves, is marginalizing them to the point of persecution really your best move?”

Bill held his hands up in surrender. “You’ll get no arguments from me. I agree with everything you’ve said and then some, even before it became a cause near and dear to my heart.”

Buffy winced, seemingly embarrassed by her outburst. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I mean, I still don’t agree with you, but I won’t pretend that I know how hard this all must be for you…”

She trailed off, but he could see the storm brewing behind her eyes, like she was planning to take on the entire Ministry to fix this injustice.

Despite himself, despite the entire situation, Bill chuckled. “You’d get along smashingly with my sister-in-law. She works tirelessly for the rights of all magical beings,” he said. Then he gave a small shudder. “Though the thought of you working together when you’ve set your minds to something is mildly terrifying.” 

Buffy smothered a smile. Her curiosity wasn’t as easily contained. “You have a sister-in-law?” she asked cautiously.

It was the first time either of them had broached the topic of family, and they both entered the subject carefully.

“Three, actually, plus one brother-in-law,” Bill said after a beat.

“You’re one of _five_?” she blurted out.

“One of seven. And the oldest, to boot.”

He flinched at the thought of Fred, a wound still painful to his whole family. If Buffy saw it, she chose not to acknowledge it, for which he was grateful. 

“Six siblings, huh?” she asked. “How did you survive? I only have one sister, and I’m still not sure how we made it through the teenage years without killing each other.”

“My mother,” he admitted. “Though we took the mick out of each other, there was a line we never crossed -- because we knew she would be waiting for us on the other side of it.” 

Buffy laughed. “I like her already.”

“She’d like you, too,” he replied with a smile. It quickly turned to a grimace, however, as he realized the full implication of what he was saying. “Maybe too much.”

This understandably earned a puzzled look from Buffy. Bill refused to elaborate, though. They had made a real breakthrough this morning. It would have been a shame to ruin it over his mother’s insane matchmaking tendencies.

+++

They set off soon after that. Though they Apparated a handful of times, they also did a fair bit of walking in between. It gave them the opportunity to look for any recognizable landmarks. It also gave Buffy the opportunity to play a less than delightful game of ‘Guess the noise in the forest’.

Subtle, she was not.

It was useful, though, as were her tips on how not to overthink it, to just allow himself to tap into his senses and listen to what they were telling him. 

It was his Wizarding knowledge, however, that gave them their first real break. 

As he scouted for the next Apparition destination, he spotted something on a ridge; the faintest ring of black marks on the solid rock face. 

Scorch marks. 

He quickly got Buffy’s attention and pointed to the ridge. 

“I think those marks are from a dragon, though I’d need a closer look to be certain,” he said excitedly. 

Buffy’s eyes widened. “And we’re happy about this because…”

“Because wild dragons are almost unheard of. On the whole, they live on reserves, both for their own safety and the safety of Muggles. Those that do manage to escape detection live in very specific areas, according to breed.”

“So we identify the dragon, we identify where the world we are,” she finished, excitement taking hold of her as well.

Bill nodded. “Or at least narrow it down. Of course, it’s a lot simpler than it sounds. We first need to find the dragon. I’d reckon that the actual nest isn’t up there. It’s probably just a perch the dragon used -- only once or twice, judging by the limited number of scorch marks. But it may point us in the right direction.”

“And that’s why it pays to hang with the smart kids,” Buffy said, beaming up at him. 

Bill blinked at the unexpected compliment. Perhaps because if that, he felt it his duty to be truthful. “Actually, most of this out here is basic Care of Magical Creatures. Everyone learns it in school.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Supposedly, I learned all about the anatomy of a frog, but it’s all organ soup to me.”

He shrugged modestly. “It helps that my brother’s a dragon tamer. Eats, sleeps, dreams and natters on incessantly about them. After awhile, some of that information was bound to rub off,” he said. “Though he deserves a bottle of Ogden’s after this.”

He looked back up at the ridge. It was an easy enough Apparition leap. As he reached for Buffy’s hand, however, she held back. 

Bill looked at her questioningly. Perhaps they hadn’t come as far as he had thought. 

“You do realize that we’ll be completely exposed up there. If you haven’t noticed, this mountain is in a valley. We’ll be visible for miles,” she pointed out. 

She was right. Bill looked back up. It couldn’t be helped, though. 

“Then we’d better be as quick as we can.”

Buffy sighed. “I know. Just thought it was my turn to point out the obvious.”

With that, she held out her hand. He took hold, and one small _pop_ , they were on the ridge. 

The view was breathtaking, rolling valleys between tall mountains. It would be the perfect spot for a dragon to search for prey. 

Knowing that time was not on their side, Bill quickly inspected the marks. Between the circular pattern and the remnants of burnt scrub grass, it did not take much to determine they were from a dragon. 

“A dragon was definitely here,” he confirmed. “Do you see any signs of scorch marks out there? Dragons tend to be territorial.”

Buffy stood on the edge of the cliff and peered out into the valley. 

“No, I don’t,” she said, clearly disappointed. She brightened a moment later, though. “Look, this shelf we’re on, it looks like it extends around the corner. Maybe we can see something from the other side.”

Bill looked toward the left. Sure enough, the ledge wrapped around the corner. Together, he and Buffy quickly went over to the edge.

His heart fell when he saw what was on the other side. While there certainly was some sort of ledge, it was far too narrow to Apparate to. It barely looked like it could support one foot, let alone four; a miscalculation of the merest centimeter would send them toppling over. If that wasn’t discouraging enough, there was a good two, maybe three, metre gap from where they were standing to the next foothold. 

He should have known that wouldn’t deter Buffy.

Before he knew what was happened, she said, “Be back in five,” and leapt. 

Her arc through the air was… well, it could almost be described as beautiful; in fact, he’s quite sure he would’ve considered it breathtaking, if he hadn’t been focused on what the hell he would do if she missed. With the grace of a fairy, she managed to alight on the tiny perch without so much as a wobble. 

From there, it seemed like child’s play to her, half-walking, half-climbing her way around the rock face, only stopping to look out across the landscape for some clues, until she was out of sight. 

Bill anxiously waited for her. As the minutes ticked by, however, it became unbearable. A thousand different scenarios floated through his mind, and none of them ended well. 

He was just about to attempt to float himself across the gap when she reappeared, a huge grin on her face. 

Though he was dying of curiosity, he didn’t dare say a word until she was standing safely next to him. 

“Well, did you find any scorch marks?”

“Better,” she declared. “I think I found its nest.”

+++

After a long trek through the valley on the other side of the mountain, they found the nest. To Bill’s delight, the beast was inside, fast asleep. Buffy, however, did not share his enthusiasm, despite the fact that he had already explained that dragons entered long slumbers, during which they were notoriously difficult to wake.

“This is has got to be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done.”

Bill swallowed his laughter. “Somehow I highly doubt that,” he teased.

That earned him a glare, so he tried a different tack. “Look, I know it’s a lot to take on faith, but this really should be simple.”

Instead of mollifying her, this only made her become even more agitated. “Exactly. It’s too easy, which means it will blow up in our faces faster than you can say ‘Dragon Whisperer’. And somehow, I don’t think stop, drop, and roll is going to help us here.” 

There was no doubt about it; he was definitely getting the hang of her speech mannerisms. 

Before he could respond to her pessimism, however, she put her fingers to her lips in a shushing motion -- as if his hushed words were going to be thing to set the dragon off -- and then beckoned him to follow her. 

Bill rolled his eyes in exasperation but said nothing. He’d let her win -- this time. She would soon discover that she wasn’t the only one with a compulsive need for the last word, though. 

Slowly, they made their way to the cave, carefully navigating their way through the trees and brush. Though the vegetation was dense in the beginning, it dramatically decreased as they drew closer. When they were approximately ten metres away, there was absolutely nothing, save a rock or two, and the ground was noticeably black, which is how Buffy had spotted the nest in the first place. At five metres, they could feel the heat emanating from the cave. 

Suddenly, Buffy stiffened.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered. 

“Hmm?” Bill said. 

He was vaguely aware that she had stopped walking next to him, but he was distracted by the sliver of claw he saw sticking out of the cave. If he could just see a bit further…

“Bill!” Buffy exclaimed in an urgent whisper, one that demanded his immediate attention. 

Bill whirled around just in time to see a bright white jet of light careening toward him. He quickly raised his wand, ready to cast a Shield Charm, when Buffy jumped right in front of him, preventing him from completely the spell. 

She either didn’t realize he could deflect the attack or didn’t think he could do it quickly enough. The outcome was still the same. 

Bill watched in horror as the spell hit her square in the chest. 

The force of the magic sent Buffy slamming into him, and they both fell to the ground. Before Bill could fully feel the pain of impact, he was scrambling over to Buffy, who was awake but dazed.

His first instinct was to Apparate somewhere else, at least where they could have some natural cover. He quickly discovered that Greyback was more prepared this time when his attempt was blocked. 

Bill could have attempted to create a portkey, but he was extremely reluctant to do so. Portkeys were highly advanced magic and required a great deal of power. Many wizards didn’t even know how to do it, and the Ministry preferred it that way. Bill only knew because all members of the Order had been taught, for obvious reasons. Therefore, while he and his wand were getting along splendidly now, he wasn’t ready to bet a portkey on it, particularly when Buffy was already cursed with Merlin knew what. 

With no other choice, Bill pulled Buffy over toward what little shelter they could find behind a large boulder before he began frantically looking for clues as to what curse had hit her. He had never seen a white light like that before, and he feared the worst. 

His fears were confirmed a moment later when he finally got a good look at her -- and the cuts that now riddled her body, seeping her clothing with blood. 

Sectumsempra. The curse that had cost George his ear. Bill had never personally seen it, but he had heard enough about it to recognize it. They all had, after the accident, as a precaution. 

It was a good thing, too. The curse was as serious as it got. He knew he needed to mend the wounds and get the bleeding under control, or else she’d be done for. 

And yet, as Bill prepared to cast the paltry healing spells he knew, it struck him that Buffy’s injuries weren’t nearly as severe as they should have been. Where there were tiny cuts, there should have been gaping wounds. 

He looked at Buffy in astonishment, who was already starting to sit up. “But how-- what happened?”

She gave a grim smile as she held up her sword, which almost seemed to glow with an eerie light. “Winnie blocked it. You don’t think I’d let it hit me, did you?” 

Her reply had a thousand questions racing through Bill’s head, but it was not the time to try and answer them. 

When she held her hand out, Bill obliged, pulling her to a crouched position behind the rock. 

To both their dismay, she swayed and fell almost immediately. 

“It’s not the cuts,” she quickly reassured him. “I feel… funny, like I just drank 10 Red Bulls. Maybe you could zap us to a more strategic, less exposed place until I get defuzzified?”

Bill shook his head grimly. “Can’t. He’s blocking my attempts to Apparate.”

Buffy sighed. “Ass kicking it is, then.”

It was a bold statement from her, considering the fact that she was getting noticeably glassy-eyed. He had no time to worry about this, however. No sooner had the words left her mouth than another curse came racing toward them. 

Bill quickly raised his wand.

“ _Protego_!”

The spell -- this one red -- bounced harmlessly off his shield. 

Greyback was far from done, however. It was merely the opening salvo. Before Bill could so much as take a breath, the battle commenced in earnest, with curses suddenly coming at such a rate, he could do little else but block. 

It was an odd fight really, one that was mostly silent. Greyback was staying within the protection of the outer trees. He was moving in so many different directions, Bill could never pinpoint where he was; he only heard the slight rustle of movement and the murmur of a spell.

It was an effective tactic. Greyback was keeping them pinned between the boulder and the cave -- that is, until a particularly vicious Bombarda got through Bill’s shield charm and hit their boulder, reducing it to rubble.

Bill and Buffy were forced to move to one of the few trees standing on the near side of the cave. 

They both knew it was only a temporary solution. Greyback would soon blast his way through that as well. And Buffy… well, she was flushed and shaking with barely a grip on her sword.

Bill was running out of options, and he knew it. He was just about to throw caution to the wind and create the damn portkey when she spoke.

“Wake the dragon up.”

Bill spared a glance down at her, completely astonished by her suggestion. “What?”

She rolled her eyes, which sent her head reeling back, thanks to her current condition. “Wake the dragon, let him rampage, and maybe in all the confusion, we can escape. If we’re really lucky, we’ll actually see the dragon before it goes postal and finally figure out where the heck we are.”

It was insane; there so many ways it could wrong. 

It was also bloody brilliant. 

“On my mark, run behind the cave,” he said. She nodded. As soon as he blocked the next curse, he stood. “Now!”

As Buffy moved away as best she could, using the trees for cover, Bill stood and faced the cave, his wand out at the ready. 

“ _Reducto_!”

He had been prepared to send another spell after the first; but there was no need. The jet of blue light that blasted from his wand was incredibly powerful. As it hit the wall, pieces of rock flew every which way, shaking the very cave itself. 

There was a moment of silence; then a deafening roar, followed by a stream of blue flame that issued from the cave entrance a good fifteen metres.

The unlucky trees with the flame’s reach instantly disintegrated into ash. 

_Blue flames, blue flames_ , Bill wracked his brains, trying to recall all he knew about the different dragon species. 

The answer came to him with a jolt. He turned toward Buffy in shock.

Could they be in--

Before he could finish his thought, the dragon burst out of the cave with such incredible force that it demolished the entire front entryway. Already weakened by the Reductor Spell, the wall in front of Bill shattered. 

Bill found himself hurtling forward face first, his wand wrenched from his hand from the force. Though his body jolted with pain when he hit the ground yet again, he resolutely ignored it, trying to put as much distance between him and the dragon as possible, while keeping an eye on the beast in his periphery. 

That was when he saw it. The gorgeous shimmery blue scales. 

It was Swedish Short-Snout, just as he had suspected. It was also going ballistic, scorching the area around it indiscriminately -- and with any luck, giving Greyback what for -- but it was only a matter of time before it found them. 

As he scrambled to his feet, he heard Buffy call out to him.

“Bill!” 

Bill turned toward her, and to his immense relief, saw that she had found his wand. He watched as she quickly scooped it up. Before she could give it to him, though, she must have heard a noise behind her, because she whipped around, perhaps instinctively holding his wand up.

The white ball of light that emanated from his wand was astounding. It pulsed for a moment before it let out a thunderous boom, sending waves of light bursting through the forest. Bill felt a shudder of magic run through him when it washed over him, sending him flying into the remnants of the wall.

For Buffy, the impact was far worse. She was flung like a rag doll into the air, landing only a metre or so away from Bill. And she wasn’t moving. 

Bill crawled over to her. He felt his heart beat again when he saw that she was still breathing. 

Unfortunately, her light show had finally gotten the attention of the dragon, and it charged toward them, the fire building in its belly.

As it prepared to let loose its flame, Bill knew what he had to do. 

It was incredibly risky. There was a chance that they weren’t in fact in Sweden. There was also a chance he would get it wrong; Sweden to England was a long, difficult jump. He had no choice, though. 

He pointed his wand at a small branch lying on the ground and concentrated, blocking out the sounds of the dragon as it let loose its flame, the way Buffy looked so small and fragile on the ground. He focused on the magic flowing through his wand and the destination in his mind -- the safest place he knew, a place he could find in his sleep.

 _Portus_.

The stick instantly glowed blue. Bill scooped Buffy up in his arms with what little strength he had left and grabbed hold of it. As the blue flames raced toward them, the portkey glowed even more brightly and Bill felt the tug familiar behind his navel. Just as the heat began to lick at their skin, the portkey activated and they were gone.

He only prayed it worked.

+++

A/N: Again, thank you for the kudos and comments! They are food for the muse's soul. :) 


	9. Meet the Weasleys

+++

Buffy felt like her head had been stuffed with cotton -- cotton that was then soaked in gasoline and set on fire. She was also lying in Bill Weasley’s bed, if the picture of him and who she guessed were his brothers were anything to go by. Even more disturbing, some of his brothers in said picture were waving and winking at her. But hey, she was clearly no longer trapped in Dante’s tenth circle, so she was going to consider it a win. She would worry about the rest later, when it didn’t feel like a ticker tape parade was making its way through her head. For now, she would concentrate on the warm, cozy feeling that was emanating from the blankets around her.

Content in her delirium, Buffy began to drift off -- until she heard voices just outside the door. Though it was a struggle, she fought off sleep so she could listen to what they were saying.

“What do you mean, you don’t have time to explain? After weeks of not hearing from you, you show up on the doorstep with a girl half-dead in your arms. You will _make_ the time, Bill!” a woman’s voice said, shrill with anger. 

“But George and Angelina--” 

“Should be here shortly,” the woman cut in. “They thought it best to drop Fred and Roxanne at her father’s. And since there’s nothing more we can do until then, as you insist a move to St. Mungo’s would be too dangerous for her, you have _plenty_ of time.”

Buffy heard Bill heave a sigh. “Alright, Mum, though I’m sure Hermione has told you--”

“She most certainly has though I don’t know what were you thinking, burdening a woman in her condition with something like that. I’ll have you know that she’s been paralyzed with worry--”

There was a snort of laughter. “‘Paralyzed’? We are talking about the same Hermione, aren’t we?”

“William Arthur Weasley!” his mother shrieked. “That’s not the point, and you know it!”

Another voice chimed in, a man’s voice, who spoke in a much calmer, gentler tone. “Bill, try to imagine our position.”

“I know, Dad. I’m sorry. It’s just… Look, it’s complicated. I’m still not exactly sure what happened myself. It shouldn’t be possible, not when Buffy isn’t even a witch--”

“What? She isn’t?”

She heard Bill clear his throat uncomfortably. “Er, Hermione didn’t mention that part? She’s… well, she’s a Vampire Slayer, and--” 

There was an audible gasp. “A Vampire Slayer? Bill, what have you _done_?”

“ _Nothing_ , Mum… for the most part anyway. And… was that the Floo? They must be here.” 

“Don’t think you’ve gotten out of this, Bill. A Vampire Slayer! You’re just lucky there’s a Healer in the family…” 

The voices trailed off as they moved away from the door. Buffy was out two seconds later.

+++

The next time Buffy woke, her headache was still firmly in place and she had zero energy. She no longer felt like she was on another planet, however.

She decided to use her newly restored lucidity to take a look around the room. She tried to, anyway. It was tough to see anything from her prone position. There also wasn’t much to see. Though the bed she was in was big -- a king, with dark blue bedding that was so soft, she felt like she was on a cloud -- the room itself was small and sparse. In fact, aside from two small windows on the far side of the room, beyond which she could just make out the sunset, there was nothing there except two sets of drawers and a few nightstands. 

And, of course, Bill. 

He was sitting in a chair next to her bed, dozing in what looked like a very uncomfortable position, with deep worry lines marring his face, even in sleep.

Buffy debated whether or not to wake him up. On the one hand, he probably needed the sleep. On the other hand, he probably needed the sleep in a nice, comfy bed. 

As she stared at him, trying to figure out what to do, a flicker of movement caught her eye. It was coming from the nightstand next to Bill. 

Squinting, she peered over at it. At first, she just saw Winnie lying on top, back to her normal, non-glowing self. Then she saw it; a photo just behind her sword. It was the same one she had seen before. The only difference was that the people in it weren’t waving at her anymore. Now they were flying around on brooms, batting a ball back and forth between them. 

Buffy gasped in surprise. Loudly. 

Bill woke with a jolt, his chair scraping loudly against the floor with the sudden motion. Before he was fully awake, his eyes were seeking Buffy, obviously alarmed that something was wrong. When he saw that she was fine, the worry lines disappeared, replaced by a look of immense relief.

“Buffy,” he said. “You had me worried for awhile there.” 

Feeling a little too vulnerable lying down, particularly because she just realized that she was out of her dirty, grimy clothes and in a fresh t-shirt and shorts set that fit her surprisingly well, Buffy sat up to reply. As soon as she tried to push herself up, however, fireworks exploded in her head, forcing her back down, her eyes squeezed shut. 

“Ow,” she groaned. “I am _never_ touching your wand again.”

“Words no man ever wants to hear,” a solemn voice from the doorway said. “Bad luck, Bi-- ow! _Ow_ , you git! Do you want my help or not?”

Her curiosity stronger than her pain, Buffy cracked her eye open. 

Bill was still by her side, but his wand was out and he was scowling at the new person in the room, who was rubbing his arm as he stood at the foot of the bed.

The guy had to be one of the brothers. The resemblance was definitely there, even beyond the red hair. The glare he was giving Bill was even the same. In fact, the only major difference was that, while he obviously didn’t have the scars on his face like Bill, he was missing an ear. 

Feeling like this was not the time to be caught lying down, Buffy gingerly pushed herself up to sitting. 

The slight movement caught the brother’s attention, and he turned toward her with a friendly grin. 

“Hullo, there,” he said cheerily. “You must be Buffy. I’m George, Bill’s younger and infinitely more dashing brother, at your service.”

As he spoke, he gestured toward the cuts on Buffy’s arm. 

“So you’re a… Healer?” she asked, struggling to remember the word she had heard before. 

George snorted in derision. “Hardly. My line of work tends to cause injuries, not heal them. As you can see, my few attempts at it have been rather pathetic,” he said, pointing to his missing ear. “But I’m the best they could get in a pinch, so… tell me where it hurts.”

Buffy felt her jaw drop as he began to walk toward her. He caught her so off-guard, she didn’t know what to say at first. 

Thankfully, she didn’t have to. Before she could even muster a ‘hell no’, Bill stepped in, his wand outstretched. At that same moment, a woman appeared in the doorway. 

She was tall and athletic-looking, with skin the color of chocolate, probably only a few years older than Buffy -- and she was glaring daggers at the two men. 

“George, stop teasing the poor girl. And Bill, there are no hexes allowed in my patient’s room,” she said sharply. Her fierce expression eased as she looked at Buffy. “Weasley men can be incorrigible at times, my husband the worst of the lot. I’m Angelina. Sorry for the intrusion, but we heard the noise and thought you might be awake.”

Buffy looked at her cautiously. “So… _you’re_ the Healer?”

Angelina nodded. “It’s pretty much a necessity, married to this one here,” she said, gesturing to George. Despite her words, there was no mistaking the love in her eyes as she glanced at her husband, or the way he returned it. She was all business a second later, though, as she looked Buffy over with a critical eye. “So, how are you feeling?”

Buffy hesitated. Healer or not, she wasn’t quite ready for full disclosure. Besides, she was fine. She felt just like she had after the Enjoining Spell -- the last time she had channeled magic through her. She was tired, but really none worse for wear, and she could see that her cuts were already starting to heal. She just needed some R&R -- after which she would pay Nora a visit and find out what else the witch neglected to tell her about her gifts.

“Headache, tired, nothing major,” she said, deciding to downplay it all. 

For some reason, this elicited a frown from Angelina. 

“Did you feel any of that when you were cursed?” she asked her husband. 

George shook his head. “Granted, my focus was on the searing pain and immense blood loss from the side of my head,” he said lightly, which _almost_ covered the tightness in his shoulders as he spoke. “I also had one amputation instead of dozens of cuts, so there’s that. Even afterward, though, I never felt any of those.” 

Suddenly Buffy understood why George was there, aside from the family connections. Whatever spell she had been hit with, he had been, too, and it was serious stuff. 

Though the others were still talking, she let their voices fade into the background as she looked between the two brothers, wondering what exactly they had been through. It definitely gave her something to think about.

“Bill’s already told us what he saw, as well as who you are--”

That got Buffy’s attention, and not in a good way. 

“So you’re fast and loose with other people’s secrets, I see,” she said, her tone a little sharper than she intended. 

George and Angelina tensed, but Bill just gazed at her unflinchingly. “When it’s necessary to get them the help they need with as little magical interference as possible, yes.”

Buffy made a face. What else could she do? He had her, and they both knew it. 

There were no flies on him, that was for sure. Modesty was apparently no where to be found, either. Even though he had clearly won the battle, he couldn’t just leave it there. 

“So… does this mean that I’m _right_?” 

Of course, that didn’t mean she was going to let him get away with it. 

“How about I just take back all the bad things I’ve said about you, and we’ll call it even?” she suggested.

Bill raised his eyebrow at this. “‘All’? I don’t recall there being that many.” 

She made sure she gave him her sweetest, most syrupy smile. “Not out _loud_.”

This elicited a bark of laughter from him. “Fair enough,” he chuckled. 

Satisfied, Buffy turned back to George and Angelina, who had been watching their back and forth with avid fascination. 

“I like you,” George declared.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t forgotten his little stunt, either. He obviously liked to dish it out; it was time to see if he could take it. 

“I have four words for you,” she said, deadly serious. “Vengeance. Will. Be. _Mine_.”

George’s jaw dropped. From the way he stared at her, she could tell that he wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not. Admittedly, she probably didn’t cut an intimidating figure, looking like a bedraggled rat in borrowed pajamas. 

It was Bill who tipped the scale.

“I'd take her serious, mate. She took on a Graphorn singlehandedly. One of my Stunners, too, without so much as a headache.”

Buffy took great satisfaction in the way that George blanched. 

Because his attention was focused on her, he missed Bill’s conspiratorial look at her. Angelina didn’t, though; swallowing her own smile, she made an effort to get the conversation back on track. 

“As I was saying,” she said loudly. “We know what Bill saw last night, but would you mind telling us what happened?”

“Last night?” Buffy said faintly. 

It had been daylight when they had woken the dragon. She had assumed it was the same day, not 24 hours later. 

Maybe she wasn’t as fine as she had thought. 

Alarmed by her reaction, Angelina looked at Bill. “We may need St. Mungo’s, after all.” 

That name sounded familiar to Buffy. Before she could place it, Bill filled in the blank for her. 

“It’s a hospital,” he explained.

Buffy paled. Maybe it was time to be a little more forthcoming. 

As concisely as she could, she explained why she was so tired and why a trip to the hospital was not necessary. It didn’t take long, but by the time she was finished, she was completely wiped out. She was only vaguely aware of Angelina shooing the men out before she was asleep again.

+++

Buffy didn’t know how long she slept. All she knew was that when she woke, it was with a bang. Literally. There was a huge cracking noise, one that practically had her jumping off the bed, as someone suddenly appeared in her room.

If it wasn’t for the lingering lethargy, she would have tackled the intruder to the floor. As it stood, she was glad she didn’t. Between the red hair and the fact that he was a dead ringer for one of the guys in the photo, it was obvious the guy in front of her was another Weasley brother. 

He wasn’t as tall as Bill or George, but he made up for it in the muscles department. He even looked like he had just come from a workout, covered in dirt and sweat and what looked like soot. He had a large leather bag slung over his shoulder, which hit the ground with a thud when he saw her.

“Merlin’s saggy balls!” he exclaimed. “Who are _you_?”

“Buffy,” she replied. “And you are obviously one of Bill’s brothers. The dragon tamer, I’m guessing.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah, I’m Charlie,” he said. “So you’re a, er, ‘friend’ of Bill’s then?”

Buffy flushed at his insinuation. “What? No! I mean, yes, I’m his friend -- kind of -- but I’m not his ‘ _friend_ ’,” she said, completely scandalized.

He took in the bed and her dishevelled appearance. “If you say so--”

Before he could finish, Bill burst into the room. 

“Charlie! You arse! Why can’t you say hello like a normal person instead of Apparating right to your room?” 

Charlie was nonplussed. “It’s your own bloody fault. You’re the one who wrote to me about a dragon, remember? I came here as soon as I could, which just happened to be after my double shift when I’m dead tired.” 

Bill winced. “I didn’t think of that,” he said sheepishly. “To be honest, I wasn’t thinking much of anything at the time.” 

Charlie grinned as he glanced slyly over at Buffy. “I can see why. Next time, though, try not to forget the part where you have a pretty bird in my room when you owl, yeah? Especially when it involves transfiguring our beds into one large one, leaving me with nothing.”

Buffy wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered or insulted, or why birds were suddenly factoring into the conversation. Bill did, though, and jumped in to set his brother straight.

“It’s not like that. She was with me when Greyback--”

“Hold on,” Charlie interrupted, his jovial expression immediately turning serious. “Did you say Greyback? What’s that about?”

Bill shook his head and gave his brother a good-natured slap on the back. “I don’t know why everyone is complaining about me not being around. You’re ten times worse. Yes, Buffy and I have been looking for Greyback, who is alive and well, I’m sorry to say. He attacked us near a dragon’s den in Sweden. We only managed to escape when Buffy thought to wake the beast, buying us some time to portkey out of there. It wasn’t without injury, though, which is why Buffy’s here in our room. That’s the long and the short of it, anyway.”

Buffy suddenly found herself pinned by Charlie’s stare as his interest in her was renewed, evidently seeing her as more than Bill’s ‘friend’ now. 

“You saw her?”

“Uh, if by ‘her’, you mean the great hulking dragon that nearly burnt us to a crisp, then yes,” she replied. 

“And it was your idea to wake her up?”

Wondering if he was going to go all PETA on her, Buffy nodded, her chin tilted a little defiantly as she did. 

Instead of looking angry, however, Charlie got this gleam in his eye. She almost thought that he was going to plop down on the bed next to her. By the half-step he took towards her, she probably wasn’t too far off. Before he got any closer, though, Bill put his arm out and stopped his brother in his tracks.

“No,” he said firmly. 

“But I--” Charlie began to protest, but he was cut off as someone else entered the room. 

“Bill, Charlie, what are you two doing in here, bickering in front of this poor girl? You should be ashamed!” the woman said. “Out, the both of you! She needs her rest.”

Bill gave his brother a victorious smirk. With a quick ‘yes, Mum’, he began ushering Charlie out the door. 

Before he stepped through the door frame, though, Charlie stopped and looked back at Buffy with a thoughtful look. 

“So you and Bill are really just friends?” he asked. 

Buffy nodded. 

Charlie grinned and gave her a wink. “Good to know,” he managed to say, before he was hauled bodily from the door frame by Bill. 

Then they were gone, and an awkward silence was left in their wake. At least, that was how it seemed to Buffy, face to face with Bill’s mother, who had been less than pleased by Buffy’s dramatic entrance into her home. Even now, she detected a hint of reservation in the woman’s demeanor as they looked at one another. 

Needing to fill the space with something, Buffy began talking. 

“Hi, you must be Mrs. Weasley. I’m Buffy Summers. Thank you so much for your help. And for your hospitality. I’m sorry to just barge in on you like this, and I’m really sorry if I caused any problems. I know Bill’s told you who I am, and I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything.”

She stopped and took a deep breath. She prepared to launch into another long ramble, but Mrs. Weasley cut her off at the pass. 

“Aren’t you sweet? It’s no trouble at all. The Vampire Slayer part was a bit of a shock, but from what I understand, if it wasn’t for you, Bill might not be here at all. Sectumsempra is a horrible curse, just horrible,” she said, her eyes getting a little watery as she spoke. She took a deep breath before she continued. “Now, how about some food? Both you and Bill must be half-starved.” 

Buffy eagerly nodded. Now that Molly mentioned it, she was hungry. 

A few moments later, she had a bowl of stew in front of her. It was delicious, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had been living off of take out for the past year or surviving off of apples and cheese the last 48 hours. Mrs. Weasley was an incredible cook, plain and simple. 

When she told her so, the older woman beamed back at her, some of her earlier standoffishness gone. 

“It’s one of Bill’s favorites,” she revealed. She waited a beat before casually asking, “So Bill tells me that you’ve hunted werewolves before? Is it common for Vampire Slayers?”

Buffy froze, the spoon halfway up to her mouth. She knew what Mrs. Weasley was getting at, and she didn’t blame her at all; the opposite in fact. 

Putting her spoon down, she looked the woman in the eye. “Maybe in the past with other slayers, but not for me, as long as they aren’t attacking anyone. One of my closest friends in high school was a werewolf. He even dated my best friend.” 

Mrs. Weasley’s face brightened for a moment. It quickly gave way to worry, however, as she began to wring her hands and glance at the door where Bill and Charlie had just exited. Because the woman obviously wasn’t ready to put voice to her distress yet, Buffy resumed eating, knowing that it would come out sooner or later. 

It turned out to be sooner. Barely two bites, fact.

“So, a pretty girl like you must have someone waiting back at home, someone who must be worried. Perhaps we could contact them and let them know you’re safe?”

Buffy struggled to keep her face neutral. She wasn’t sure if Mrs. Weasley was trying to see if she was single for one of her boys, or if she was hoping she was taken. She got the feeling it was the latter. Either way, it wasn’t going to end well.

“Uh, no, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. It’s just me and my sister, and I don’t want to worry her with all this.”

It oversimplified the situation, but she hoped it was enough to cut off any other questions about contacting people, especially her parents. 

“Just you and…” Mrs. Weasley began. Then it hit her. “Oh. OH.”

It was as if the last five minutes had never happened. 

“Oh, you poor dear!” the woman exclaimed. “And please, call me Molly.”

Then Mrs. Weasley -- _Molly_ \-- was a flurry of activity. Buffy could only lay there as the woman bustled around her, fluffing her pillows and mothering her in a way she hadn’t experienced since she had been hospitalized with the flu. 

It touched Buffy, and at the same time, completely overwhelmed her. She was relieved when Molly finally left, falling back onto the pillows in exhaustion as soon as the door closed. 

The Weasleys were an experience, that was for sure; and it wasn’t over yet. By her count, she still had 3 brothers, 3 in-laws, a father, and a sister to go.

+++

Buffy sighed, luxuriating in the hot water. Bathing was way overdue, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it -- especially since she had to work so hard for it.

Between Molly and Angelina, they were barely letting her lift a finger. It took all her powers of persuasion to convince them that she wasn’t going to drown in the tub. Even then, Bill had to run some interference between her and his mother, for which she was eternally grateful. 

With another blissful sigh, Buffy sank down into the water, her mind drifting to the previous night. For her, the main takeaway was that she needed a crash course in magic; the kinds of spells she was up against, what they did, and how she could safely dispel them. She would need Bill’s help to do it, too.

It was going to be an awkward conversation, to say the least. She had been both dismissive and disparaging with Bill about his magic. It actually wasn’t all bad, though. She could see that now. Heck, not only had it saved her bacon, but it did little things, too, like giving her clean clothes to wear that were her exact size. 

It was also something she couldn’t put off. Greyback was still out there. Not to mention the longer she took, the greater the risk one of the Weasley women would break down the door to make sure she was okay.

Reluctantly, Buffy pulled herself out of the tub. After drying herself off, making sure to pat carefully around her cuts, she quickly dressed in the shorts and shirt she had been wearing. Seeing no hair dryer, she simply gave her hair a good towel drying and left it at that. 

As she exited the bathroom, she heard voices from the stairwell below. 

“Bill, you need to eat something. You’ve lost nearly a stone since I last saw you.”

“I will, Mum. I promise,” came his immediate reply.

Buffy smirked. She could tell by Bill’s tone that he was just placating his mother. She began to walk away from the stairwell when she heard her name. 

“Buffy… she’s a sweet girl, isn’t she? Absolutely lovely,” Molly said. 

“Er, I suppose.”

Buffy should’ve walked away. She didn’t really care where this conversation was going -- and yet she found herself creeping down the stairs for a closer listen.

“I can see you care about her, but…” his mother said hesitantly. “Well, a Vampire Slayer leads such a dangerous life. I’ve already lost Fred, and Charlie insists on working at that infernal dragon reserve. If you were to--”

“Mum, stop,” Bill interrupted. “It’s not like that between us. Buffy would probably prefer a garden gnome over me.”

“What? Why wouldn’t she like you?” Molly asked, obviously offended. “You’re handsome and smart and brave. A girl would be a fool not to see what you have to offer!” 

Bill laughed. “Well, which is it, Mum? Do you want Buffy to fall for my supposedly irresistible charm or stay far away while I wrap myself in Shielding Spells?” 

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. But as I said, it’s a moot point. Besides, I wasn’t made for relationships, not anymore.”

“Oh pish,” Molly scoffed. “You’re letting that toxic woman into your head. Look at Remus and Tonks! They were very much in love, and she had no issue with his… with his…”

“With his what?” Bill asked quietly.

His mother sighed. “Oh, Bill, you know what I mean.” 

“Just leave it, Mum.”

By Molly’s grumbling, she wasn’t going to leave it there, but Buffy had heard enough. It was definitely the kind of conversation she didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping on, and with the way Weasleys seemed to come out of the woodwork, she was already taking her chances. 

As quietly as she could, she crept back up the stairs. Just as she made it to the landing, however, her luck ran out, as she found herself face to face with a girl who, from where Buffy was standing, was all hair and pregnant belly.

“It’s a bit much to take, isn’t it?” 

Buffy hesitated. “You could say that.” 

The other girl smiled sympathetically. “I was raised as an only child, so I know they can be a little overwhelming. Of course, I wouldn’t trade them for all the world. And they all mean well,” she said.

Buffy nodded. “They do,” she said, because despite everything, the family was starting to grow on her. They were good people and surprisingly easy to talk to. Then, realizing she had no idea who she was talking to, she stuck out her hand. “I’m Buffy, by the way. Buffy Summers.” 

“Oh, where are my manners? Hermione Granger-Weasley. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m only sorry I haven’t been by before,” she said as she clasped Buffy’s hand in a firm handshake.

Buffy eyed Hermione’s enormous belly. “I’m sure you’ve had other things on your mind.”

To her surprise, Hermione laughed. “What? No, not that! I’ve been busy researching what on earth happened last night, and well, I have a theory. Bill told me what you said. It does appear as though Greyback’s spell was absorbed by your sword, worked its way through you, and then exited through Bill’s wand.”

Buffy nodded. That pretty much summed it up.

But Hermione was shaking her head. “A few things don’t add up, however. If you were simply a conduit, the magic should have no effect on you. So why did it take such a toll? And why was the resulting magic exponentially larger than what was absorbed?” she asked. 

Knowing a rhetorical question when she heard one, Buffy stayed silent, curious where she was going with this. 

Sure enough, Hermione continued speaking without even taking a breath. “I believe it’s because you’re not just a conduit. You are a living human being, one who, from what I’ve read, is imbued with a mystical essence of your own. As such, to keep with the electricity analogy, you are more like a conductor, or more specifically, a coil.”

It was here that she finally stopped, looking at Buffy as she tried to gauge her reaction. 

All she got was confusion. Buffy kind of understood what she was saying, and she really appreciated the way Hermione was trying to explain in non-magical terms, but she wasn’t an electrician, an engineer, or even a handy person around the house, so the nuance was lost on her. 

Hermione recognized this and rushed to explain.

“Think of an extension cord. The casing around it is the conduit. The wire inside is the conductor, carrying the electric charge within it. A coil is a type of conductor, but it takes it one step further. As the electricity moves around every turn, it builds its own field, creating higher voltages and higher currents than are being fed into it. I believe the same happened to you. As the magic wended its way around you, it fed off your own magical core and built its strength, resulting in a much higher expulsion of magic than what was absorbed.”

“Okay,” Buffy said slowly, as she took this in. “Say you’re right. It’s all conduit, conductor, tomato, tomahto, right?”

Hermione bit her lip. “I wish it were that simple. You see, conductors can only carry so much. If they’re overloaded, they can burn out.”

“Burn out?” Buffy exclaimed, not liking the sound of that at all. “You mean it could kill me?”

“Perhaps,” Hermione replied. “Or it could simply drain your mystical energy. I think that’s why you’re so tired now. Your powers are so closely linked to your physiology, it would make sense that one would affect the other.”

Buffy wanted to deny it all; she really did. But then she looked down at her arm, at the cuts that still hadn’t completely healed.

She hadn’t noticed any problems healing during the Enjoining Spell, but she also hadn’t been looking. She definitely had been tired. Since then, a lot had happened -- like Glory’s portal, her subsequent resurrection, and Winnie. 

Then there was her strength. She had felt weak since she had arrived there. That didn’t mean something was wrong, but she had also been practically bedridden for the last 24 hours, with no chances to test her strength; because as the Cruciamentum showed her, it wasn’t something she would notice right away. 

Dammit. Hermione could be completely wrong. But what if she wasn’t? 

After all, it sounded a lot like what happened to Willow, or what they had assumed happened. And she still hadn’t recovered from it. They didn’t know if she ever would. 

“It’s only temporary, right? These effects?” she asked, trying to keep her voice as calm as she could. 

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, her frustration visible. “I simply don’t know. This is rather unprecedented. For us, it’s impossible to ‘run out’ of magic. It is within us, always. My theory isn’t perfect, either, particularly without seeing your sword. Still, in any case, I would limit the amount of magic you take in, just to be safe. I also wouldn’t attempt something that requires magic over a prolonged period of time. That will almost certainly drain your energy, at least until the spell is ended and perhaps longer.”

Prolonged spells could drain her energy… 

Buffy’s heart dropped as she realized the implications of Hermione’s advice.

The Activation Spell wasn’t a one shot deal. It would continually activate new Potentials as soon as they hit sixteen; it was doing that even before Buffy had left. That meant the spell was still active. If what Hermione said was true, it was sustaining itself on Willow’s powers, which meant she might not get her magic back ever again -- unless the spell was broken. And if Hermione thought of this possibility, chances were Willow had, too.

Son of a _bitch_.

+++

A/N: So I generally try to be judicious in my cliffhangers. I realize in this story, however, I tend to be jumping from ledge to ledge. It’s something I’m aware of and trying to remedy. Until then, I can only hope it’s exciting and not frustrating... Please? 


	10. Bad Moon Rising

Disclaimer: The story of the White Doe is not mine. It is from Tales of the Slayer by Christopher Golden. The Roanoke-Grenville Accord is my take on the potential fallout from this story, if it were to happen in the HP universe.

+++

As Bill watched his mother walk off in a huff into the living room, he felt ill. It wasn’t because she was upset, or even because of her meddling. Those he could handle; he’d had years of practice, after all. It was because he had a nagging suspicion Buffy had heard the entire affair.

All in all, it was fairly humiliating. 

When he heard Buffy come thundering down the stairs a moment later, he prepared himself for an intensely awkward moment. He only hoped she would be annoyed or amused; anything really, as long as it wasn’t pity.

What he got was barely a glance, her gaze sweeping the kitchen as she searched for something. 

“I need to use your phone… you do have a phone, right?” she asked. 

Not at all what he was expecting, Bill was momentarily taken aback. Before he could sort out what she was asking, Hermione came padding down the stairs. 

“No, we don’t,” she replied, slightly out of breath. “None in working order, at any rate. We use owls to communicate.”

Buffy cringed. “And by owl you mean…” 

Hermione smiled at her sympathetically. “Exactly how it sounds. We write a letter on a piece of parchment, which the owl then delivers.”

“I’m pretty sure Willow will freak if an owl shows up at her door,” Buffy muttered as she turned to Bill. “You probably can’t Abracadabra me there, either, can you?” 

Bill had to do his damnedest not to laugh at the look of mortification on Hermione’s face as she realized what Buffy was referring to and the way she had mangled it -- though imagining how his reaction would be received by both women helped considerably. 

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s not advisable to Apparate to a place you’ve never been. Besides, Trans-Atlantic Apparition is a bit out of my range.”

Buffy shook her head. “Actually, I wouldn’t need to ocean hop. Willow is here in Devon, in a coven of Wiccans actually,” she explained. 

“Devon?” Bill said. “That actually isn’t too far--”

“Did you say the Devon coven?” his mother asked as she walked into the kitchen, apparently dropping all pretense of minding her own business. “Arthur, isn’t Arabella Figg’s sister there?”

A moment later, Bill’s father joined them in the kitchen. He gave Buffy a warm smile. “Hullo there, I’m Arthur Weasley. Welcome to the Burrow,” he said. “Yes, dear, I believe she is, though I hear the head of the coven is a stern one who’s not overly fond of us wand-bearing folk. At any rate, Apparition is most definitely out of the question, as the entire property is probably heavily warded against it; the surrounding land, too. If Maris Figg is there, there’s a chance she’s connected to the Floo network, but any kind of unexpected magic could be dangerous, particularly since it is getting on in the day.”

Bill’s mother nodded in agreement; a bit too eagerly, in his mind. “Perhaps it would be best to write to the head of the coven and petition to either Floo or fly there first thing in the morning?”

“Floo or fly-- nevermind. I’ll deal with that later,” Buffy muttered. 

She paused then, chewing her lip as she weighed her options. Bill could practically see the argument she was having with herself. It was obvious she needed to talk to her friend. On the other hand, he could imagine she would be reluctant to put herself through another bout of magic when she hadn’t completely healed from the last. His father was right, too. It was already past 9; late for an unannounced visit.

Whatever the reason, Buffy quickly made up her mind.

“Do you have a pen and piece of paper I could use?”

Beaming, Bill’s mother retrieved some parchment, a quill, and a pot of ink and put them on the kitchen table. 

The look on Buffy’s face was priceless. Still, to her credit, she didn’t say a single thing. She simply sat down and grabbed hold of the quill and ink pot with a determined look in her eye. 

When she accidentally snapped the quill in half, she apologized and asked for another. The second time it happened, her face grew grim and her apology was much more subdued. The third time, her expression turned downright wrathful as she glared at the quill, saying nothing but a terse ‘thank you’ as a new quill was given to her. Soon after, Bill’s family wisely retreated into the living room. 

Four broken quills and three shredded parchments later, she finally gave up, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. 

Knowing this was his moment, Bill cleared his throat. “Here, let me have a go at it,” he offered. Then, because opportunities like this were far and few between, he added, “You know, before you singlehandedly cause a quill shortage in England.” 

Though she glared mightily at him, she pushed the parchment and quill over toward him. Grinning, Bill grabbed the chair closest to him -- one that also happened to be healthy distance away from her -- and began to compose a letter. 

He only got as far as the salutation when he realized he hadn’t the slightest idea what he was requesting.

In the woods, he and Buffy had been thrown together by circumstance, working with one another out of sheer necessity. Now, however, the situation had changed. They could go their separate ways -- or make a conscious choice to work together. Either way, a decision needed to be made.

Because there was no time like the present, Bill put the quill down and got right to it.

“Where do we go from here? Do ‘we’ go anywhere at all?” he asked, gesturing between the two of them. 

Flustered, Buffy began to examine the table intently. “I’m not sure,” she hedged. “I was kinda taking it one step at a time.” 

A ringing endorsement it was not. Though his pride demanded he not put himself out there any further, Bill didn’t operate that way. It was time to lay his cards on the table. 

“Fair enough,” he replied. “I know we didn’t get off to the best start, and the coven has bugger all to do with me. That being said, Greyback is still out there, and I don’t think it’s wise for us to split--”

Buffy held up her hand, effectively cutting him off. 

“This may be hard to believe, but it’s not that I don’t trust you, not anymore. I was actually going to ask you for a Magic for Dummies session,” she admitted. She took a deep breath and looked him steadily in the eye. “It’s just… I’m not the safest person to be around. I never have been, and I never will be.”

She didn’t say it in a pitying way, nor in a way that sugarcoated the cold, hard truth. He gave her the courtesy of replying in kind -- though inwardly he was groaning, as she all but confirmed she had overheard his conversation with his mother. 

“If you hadn’t noticed, neither am I, particularly with Greyback on the loose.”

She said nothing at first, looking down at the table once again. When she finally looked up, however, her eyes were glinting with humor. 

“You just don’t want to miss out on the colossal beatdown I’m going to give him.”

Bill grinned. “There’s that, too.” 

She laughed at that. “Okay, round two of Bill and Buffy’s excellent adventure then,” she agreed. “But you can be the one to break it to your mom.”

Bill couldn’t argue with that. Besides, they both knew full well that his mother had heard every word.

The matter resolved, he picked up the quill. A few moments later, the letter was ready to go. He rolled up the parchment and made for the back door, making sure to grab an owl treat on the way.

He was surprised to find Buffy right behind him.

“First official team business?” she said. Though she looked almost indifferent as she spoke, her eyes darted furtively to the living room.

Bill wasn’t fooled. He recognized the situation for what it was. It was a prison break. 

They both knew that his mother and Angelina would object to her going outside, particularly at this late hour with Buffy clad only in a pajama set and nothing on her feet. At that precise moment, however, they weren’t there to stop her; Angelina had left with George soon after Buffy went to take her bath to check on their children and his mother was in living room. 

That left Bill, and he was not going to get in her way for all the world. She was probably going a little stir crazy being cooped up inside the house as well, especially from all the mollycoddling. He knew he would be. She also wasn’t the most patient person in the world, so having to wait to see her friend must have been akin to torture. 

Bill leaned down toward her ear to make sure his mother wouldn’t hear. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Her relief was palpable. She looked up and practically beamed at him. Together, they snuck out of the house like two truant school children, with Bill casting charms to illuminate their path as they walked, until they reached the shed where the owls generally liked to perch -- or owl, as it turned out.

Bill swallowed his disappointment. Though he liked Pigwidgeon, the little owl would not be his first choice. But he would have to do; poor old Errol was no longer around, and there were no others in sight.

Holding out the owl treat, Bill called him down. Instead of flying to him, however, Pig fluttered around Buffy, obviously excited by the chance to show off in front of the stranger. And impress, he did, darting around Buffy as he performed a variety of aerial tricks.

The little prat didn’t stop until he drew a laugh from her. Only then, having deemed her admiration sufficient, did he land on the lower edge of the roof. 

“Are you done showing off?” Bill asked dryly. 

Pig clicked his beak in response. 

Shaking his head, Bill stepped forward and attached the letter to Pig’s leg. “This is for the head of the Devon Coven,” he said, as he handed over the treat. 

Pig quickly snapped it up, and with another click of his beak, flew into the night sky -- never once acknowledging the way he listed to the side from the weight of the parchment. Bill swore the little bird thought he was an eagle. 

Next to him, Buffy stifled her laughter. “So that little fluffball will really deliver the message?”

“And do a fair bit of preening afterward,” Bill admitted. 

“Well, your way has ridiculous amounts of cuteness on its side,” she said. “But hello, inefficiency. A phone call or email would be so much faster.”

Bill shrugged. He wasn’t going to argue, particularly since he had no experience with either. Instead, he started to head back to the house. After the first few steps, however, he got the distinct impression that Buffy wasn’t quite ready to go back yet; impulsively he decided to take a more circuitous route back. 

Almost immediately, he regretted his decision. 

On the way down to the shed, he had managed to keep Buffy on his right. Now on the way back, however, she insisted on walking on his left, where his scars were on full display. She never said anything outright; she simply outmaneuvered him whenever he tried to fix it until he finally gave up altogether. Instead, he refocused his energy, pointing out various landmarks around the Burrow and the childhood stories associated with them along the way. 

Though she seemed to enjoy the tales, particularly the kinds of trouble he and his brothers used to get into, her expression grew increasingly pensive as they drew closer to the back door until finally she stopped altogether. 

“Did Hermione tell you about her theory?” she quietly asked. 

Bill nodded. “To be honest, I’m not sure what to make of it. It seems sound, and Hermione is rarely wrong, but there are just so many unknowns.”

Buffy bit her lip. “I need to know if she’s right, though. Could I stay out here for a little while?” she asked.

“Of course,” Bill replied. Then he paused. “I’ll keep the hounds at bay inside for you as well.”

This made Buffy grin. “Your mother is very sweet. It’s been awhile since someone has taken care of me like that. It’s… really nice. A little overwhelming in the way that I need to take a breather every now and then, but really nice.”

It struck Bill how sad that was, that she didn’t have anyone like that, and how easy it was to take his own family for granted. It was not the time to mull it over, though, not when she was standing less than an arm’s length away. 

“So I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, gesturing to the garden around him.

He fully intended to leave, but as he looked around, he realized that there was nothing there but overgrown grass; not at all ideal for what she probably wanted to do. Frowning, he pulled out his wand and cleared out an area for her before he started to go.

He turned back when she called his name.

“Bill?” she said. “I… thank you.”

It was said honestly and sincerely. Bill got the distinct impression that it was for more than a few illumination charms, too. Before he could respond, however, she turned away from him.

+++

Bill watched Buffy through the kitchen window as she went through a series of complicated movements, ones that clearly required strength, stamina, and flexibility. He felt like a bit of a creep watching her, but honestly, she had been out there for a good thirty minutes and he was getting worried, particularly since the look on her face told him it wasn’t going well.

“I still can’t believe that little bit of a thing is a Vampire Slayer,” Charlie said from behind him. 

Something in his brother’s tone made Bill look at him. Charlie barely noticed; his eyes were glued on Buffy.

Bill could admit it. He didn’t like the way his brother was looking at her. Bill had worked so hard to gain her trust; he didn’t want it ruined because Charlie couldn’t keep his leering to a minimum. 

There was no excuse for the growl that emanated from him, however. 

Charlie gave a start of surprise, taking half a step back in the process. In the other room, he heard his parents gasp. 

“I’m so sorry,” Bill said hoarsely, completely mortified. 

Charlie quickly shook it off, returning to his normal cheerful self. “I know you’re taking her well being very seriously, but this big brother routine is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Big--” Bill spluttered, but Charlie was already sauntering toward the stairs until he was out of sight. 

Bill scowled. If he hadn’t been in a foul mood before, he was certainly in one now, and he struggled to get ahold of his temper. 

It was made much easier a few minutes later when Harry Potter stepped out of the Floo. The poor bastard had the most pitiful expression on his face, it was next to impossible to stay angry. 

“Bill, I don’t know what else I can say, except I’m sorry,” Harry said.

Bill waved him off. “There’s been enough of that. Let’s just figure out how to catch the bastard, eh?”

Harry nodded. “It’s the least I can do,” he said with a grim smile. “I’ve already begun monitoring all unusual reports, both with the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. I’ll also see what I can do within the Ministry, but I’m afraid that won’t be much, not without any kind of proof that he’s back. You’re sure you don’t have anything I could use?”

“Aside from Greyback attacking me multiple times?” Bill retorted, admittedly a bit petulantly. He knew it wasn’t Harry’s fault, though, so he added in a much calmer tones, “No, there’s nothing, nothing that the Ministry would accept at least. Not even a sighting for the a Pensieve.”

Harry clapped a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. Greyback can’t maintain this level of secrecy for long. It’s not in his nature,” he said. He looked out that window. “Is that her? The Vampire Slayer? I’d love to meet her, but it’s probably best I don’t. Officially, I don’t know she’s even here. Oh, and look, she’s heading in. I’ll take that as my cue to leave. I’ll be in touch, though.”

Harry quickly walked over to the Floo and threw a pinch of powder into the fireplace. He disappeared just as Buffy walked into the house. She looked completely knackered as she collapsed in one of the kitchen’s chairs. 

Bill’s mother was in the kitchen an instant later. By the way she moved, a veritable whirlwind between the stove and the pantry, he could only imagine that she had waited for this moment, carefully planning what she would do the moment Buffy returned to the house. Faster than Bill could blink, his mother had a glass of pumpkin juice and some biscuits ready, which Buffy gratefully accepted. 

Bill went to sit next to her, but before he could, Hermione swooped in.

“Hi, Buffy, I know it’s late, but… I need to talk to you. There are rumors running around the Ministry that there are now multiple slayers in existence,” she said. 

Bill gave a start at this bit of information. As far as he knew, there was only ever one active Slayer at a time. By the way his mother dropped the spoon she was levitating, he knew that was what she had thought, too. 

Buffy obviously was caught off guard as well. Whiter than a ghost, she looked ready to bolt.

Realizing her potential blunder, Hermione frantically tried to salvage the situation.

“It’s just a rumor, mind you, one that I feel absolutely no obligation to substantiate, the circumstances being what they are. I only meant, that is to say… oh dear,” she fretted. Then she stopped and took a deep breath. “Regardless of what the situation is or isn’t, it has brought the Accord between us to my attention--”

“The what?” Buffy interrupted. 

If Hermione was surprised, she didn’t show it. “The Roanoke-Grenville Accord of 1586. Nasty business that was. Essentially, a wizard in the Roanoke colony fell madly in love with a slayer and turned her into a white doe when she didn’t return his feelings. This infuriated the Watcher’s Council, understandably. In order to prevent a war, the Accord was struck, making it forbidden for any wizard to perform magic on a slayer,” she explained. “Personally, I believe the Ministry jumped at the opportunity. They prefer things to be black and white, and they simply do not know how to handle anyone who is magical in their own right yet not a witch or wizard, the arrogant old goats.”

Bill saw the way Buffy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye but said nothing as Hermione continued on. 

“One of the first things I’d like to do after my leave is work on re-establishing Wizard/Slayer relations,” she said, and though this elicited another reaction from his mother, she resolutely ignored it. “It’s absolute rubbish that we can no longer interact all because of one unscrupulous and rather selfish man. That is, if it’s something you and yours would be interested in exploring…”

“We might,” Buffy said cautiously. Then she smiled. “As long as you’re at the table when we do.”

Hermione beamed back at her. “Excellent!” she exclaimed. Then, perhaps because she felt she and Buffy were on good terms or perhaps because she simply couldn’t stop herself, she added, “I was also hoping I might be able to look at your sword. You don’t even have to move. I can retrieve it from your room myself and take it--” 

“No,” Buffy cut in, rather forcefully.

Hermione’s face fell. “Oh, of course. I understand.”

Buffy shook her head. “No, you don’t,” she insisted, before slapping her hand to her forehead. “Apparently, it’s my turn to get whacked with the tact stick. Yes, you can look at it, but I don’t want anyone else to touch it, especially you. We have no idea what it could do, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

Before anyone could object, she pushed herself to her feet and went upstairs. She was back a few moments later with her sword, which she gently laid on the kitchen table. 

Bill had never seen a pregnant woman move so quickly. Hermione was there in front of the sword before he could blink, oohing and aahing over the design and workmanship. 

“Look at the runes… I’ve got to copy them down… and a _lightning bolt_ on the other side… what are the chances… oh my…”

“Her name’s Winnie,” Buffy explained. Then she grimaced. “Well, actually it’s not. That’s what I call her. Willow said it’s Car… Car winches? Car window? That’s not right, but Carwinnie just sounds wrong--”

“Do you mean _Carnwennan_ ,” Hermione interrupted, her face noticeably paler. 

Buffy brightened. “Yep, that’s it! And geez, is there anything you guys don’t know...”

She trailed off when she noticed Hermione was practically hyperventilating. Bill, Buffy, and Mrs. Weasley all made a motion toward her when she waved them off. 

“This is incredible,” she breathed. “Carnwennan was given to King Arthur, possibly by Merlin _himself_ , which he used to kill the Black Hag.”

Bill looked at the sword in awe, and he saw his mother do the same. 

“That’s of the good, right? You guys are big on Merlin and not on hags?” Buffy asked, unsure of their reactions. 

Bill laughed incredulously. “Yes, it’s a very good thing. Incredible, in fact. Imagine, a relic of Merlin’s, here…” he marveled. “You’re a tough one to keep up with.”

Buffy shrugged. “You haven’t done too bad a job.”

Like all her compliments to him were, it was said begrudgingly, and Bill took it in the spirit in which it was meant. 

His mother and Hermione did not. They quite obviously exchanged looks with one another, though neither one of them dared look at him. The only saving grace was that Buffy had no idea what she had walked into. Still Bill felt incredibly uncomfortable. 

“I, ah, I need to take care of something. I’ll be back in a bit,” he announced before he practically sprinted from the room.

Bill spent a good fifteen minutes getting cleaned up. During that time, he heard his parents go to bed, for which he was glad. The past 24 hours had taken a toll on everyone, and it was only just beginning. 

When he was done, he went back downstairs to join the girls.

Apparently, Charlie had the same idea. Bill found him sitting on the sofa in the living room next to Buffy, as the two of them pored over a map of Sweden, no doubt trying to triangulate where they -- and the dragon -- had been.

Bill’s initial reaction was to join them, but he immediately squashed that impulse. He wasn’t needed there. From what he could hear, Buffy was providing details about the layout of the forest he didn’t remember. 

Charlie had been right. He was being ridiculously overprotective, and he had no right to be. Buffy was a big girl, one who could take care of herself and then some. And she didn’t look put off by Charlie’s attention in the slightest.

Needing something to do, he grabbed a biscuit off the counter and sat down next to Hermione, who was still at the kitchen table studying the sword. In addition, she now had an armada of books around her, and she was currently flipping furiously through the pages of one particularly large text. 

“Find anything useful?” he asked between bites. 

Hermione shook her head. “Not particularly.”

Since it was obvious she wanted to continue with her research, Bill let her be and focused on his food. Just as he was taking the last few bites, a flutter of movement just outside the window caught his eye. 

It was an owl; not one of theirs, but a gorgeous eagle owl, looking at Hermione expectantly. 

Not wanting to interrupt her, Bill quickly went outside, grabbing a treat for the bird on the way. He found the owl sitting on a tree branch a few meters from the house, a letter attached to its leg.

Bill untied the letter and held out a treat to the owl. The little bugger ignored it, however, and let out a loud hoot, one that sounded almost disdainful, before it flew away without so much as a backward glance. 

Scowling, Bill returned to the house and handed the letter to Hermione. 

“Courtesy of the most obnoxious owl ever,” he said. 

Still immersed in her book, she grabbed the letter and shoved it in her pocket without a single glance. “Work related, no doubt,” she said distractedly. 

“They’re still contacting you, even though you’re on leave?” Bill asked in surprise. 

“Yes, I prefer it actually,” she replied. Then she froze and looked up. “Though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to Ron when he comes home from the joke shop tonight?”

Because she was doing him an enormous favor, Bill agreed, albeit a little reluctantly. “Alright. Is this a problem?” he asked cautiously. 

Hermione made a face. “For him. He’s already having difficulty accepting the fact that I have no plans to quit my job and stay home after the baby is born. I simply cannot do that, though. I’ve been bored out of mind just these past few months.”

Bill was surprised. He knew his mother’s thoughts on the subject, but he had no idea that Ron shared them as well. Personally, Bill agreed with Hermione. Someone like her would go bonkers staying at home.

Before he could think of what to say -- something that wouldn’t put him in the middle -- Buffy let out a particularly large laugh. 

Hermione seized the opportunity to change the subject. “They seem to be getting on well enough,” she commented. 

Bill grunted by way of reply and sat back down. Because he could see the questions brewing in his sister-in-law’s mind, he cut her off at the pass the best way he knew how. 

“Can I help at all? It’s been awhile since I’ve tried my hand at runes, but I’m not too shabby at cross-referencing and the like.”

Just as he suspected, Hermione eagerly accepted his help. Soon they both were absorbed in the tomes around them, so much so that Bill only half heard Buffy and Charlie’s conversation; such as when he complimented her on her quick thinking around the dragon, or when she expressed her admiration in his ability to work with the beasts on a daily basis, or when he then in turn invited her to visit the dragon reserve. 

And he got no satisfaction whatsoever when he interrupted them a short while later upon Pig’s return, all but bringing Charlie and Buffy’s little study group to a screeching halt.

+++

Everyone went to bed soon after the letter arrived, which granted Buffy and him entry to the coven first thing in the morning. Still, sleep eluded Bill that night; he tossed and turned in his bed until he finally gave up and went downstairs into the kitchen.

Something Harry had said stuck in his mind. It wasn’t in Greyback’s nature to show restraint of any kind. Yet, for as much trouble as he had caused, the werewolf hadn’t shown himself once. What’s more, his attacks had been methodical and well orchestrated. 

It made Greyback infinitely more dangerous and difficult to predict. It also made Bill wonder what the bastard’s plan could be, that he would curb his natural instincts to the point where it was probably painful, only finding release in moments like his savagery with the Graphorn. 

It was unsettling, to say the least.

Feeling more than a little frustration, Bill went to get a glass of water. As he stood over the sink, he glanced out the little window there and received a shock. 

In the recent excitement, the days and nights had blurred and he had foolishly lost track of the moon, and it had not yet risen when he and Buffy had been out earlier in evening. Now, however, there was no ignoring it; for though it wasn’t quite full, it would be in just a handful of days. 

Not only did it explain some of the uneasiness he had been feeling lately, but it also gave him his first real clue on what was to come. 

Greyback wouldn’t be able to curtail his instincts under the full moon. More importantly, Bill was willing to bet he had no intention of trying. 

“Bill?”

Startled, Bill turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway. 

“What are you doing awake?” he asked. 

Hermione sighed. “Taking my one hundredth trip to the loo, thank you very much. I saw the light on down here and thought it might be you.” 

Though he needed to talk to his family about this all, it could wait until morning, so he simply shrugged his shoulder and said, “Can’t sleep.”

Hermione padded over to him. “I’m sure you have a lot on your mind,” she replied. “I’m glad that you’re up, though. I wanted to give you something before you left tomorrow.”

She produced a small package wrapped in brown paper. Curious, Bill took it from her and opened it. He let out a laugh when he saw the book inside. 

It was entitled _American Muggle 2: A Vexing and Perplexing Mystery_.

“I got it soon after we talked the last time,” she confessed. “Of course, I realized within five minutes of speaking with Buffy that it’s complete rubbish.”

Bill grinned. “I don’t know whether the fault lies with the book, or whether Buffy simply defies expectations.”

“She does seem to do that, in a variety of ways,” Hermione replied slyly. Before Bill could object to her implication, she was speaking again. “Anyway, though I realize it’s essentially useless, I thought I’d still give it to you, if for nothing else but a bit of fun. It looks like we may need it in coming days.” 

Bill couldn’t deny the truth in her statement; still, he didn’t want to end the night on such a dire note. 

“Thank you for the book,” he said sincerely, ruffling the top of her head affectionately.

Hermione swatted his hand away with a scowl. “Please, all these pregnancy hormones are making my hair big enough as it is. I’m convinced I’ll wake up one day and find owls nesting in it,” she grumbled. She glared at Bill when he laughed. “Well, I know you have a big day tomorrow, so I’ll leave you alone. Do try to get some sleep, though.”

With that she walked back upstairs. 

A smile still on his face, Bill put his glass away and headed for bed. As he turned to leave the kitchen, however, the moon caught his eye, a pale, cold reminder that the clock was ticking.

+++

A/N: I don’t usually do this but… Buffy/Bill pairing -- yea or nay? 


	11. Off to See the Wiccan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your replies to my Buffy/Bill question! Responses were unanimously 'yes' - which gives me something to think about, as the responses were much more mixed on another site.

+++

Buffy woke up the next morning with her stomach tied in knots. As anxious as she was to find out what happened to her strength and Willow’s magic, she also dreaded it. A million worst case scenarios were running through her head before she even got out of bed.

Before she could get too doom and gloom, however, there was a knock on the door. For the next fifteen minutes, she was caught up in a whirlwind of Weasleys.

It started with Mrs. Weasley, who not only brought enough towels and toiletries to bathe a small country, but also Buffy’s clothes, which had been cleaned to the point where they looked brand new. Next came Hermione, who had somehow magically jury rigged a hair dryer for her. As if her first real blowout in days wasn’t enough, she also brought some mascara and lip gloss. The last in the parade was Angelina. In addition to one last check up the Healer gave Buffy a long list of symptoms to look for and making her promise to keep in touch for the next few days. 

Buffy felt like Dorothy in the Emerald City. There was no other way to describe it. She soon discovered that her time in the merry old land of Weasley wasn't over yet, either. By the time she made it downstairs, looking all clean and spiffy with Winnie in hand, Molly was in the midst of preparing a feast for breakfast, as Hermione sat in the midst of all the bowls and plates, writing up a storm. While Buffy had no idea what she working on, she caught the words ‘slayer’ and ‘sword’ multiple times. 

The Weasley men weren't idle, either. Arthur and Bill were deep in discussion over the best route to the coven -- because apparently _flying_ was their only option, as Nora had nixed the ‘Floo’ -- and Ron, who she still hadn't even met, was out in the shed, checking the brooms over. Charlie and George, meanwhile, were working on something in the living room.

It was chaotic and surreal and... kind of familiar. It was like the old times in the library, family style. Maybe that's why, for the first time in a long while, the thought of working in a group didn't make her want to run screaming for the hills. In fact, she was actually disappointed when Molly announced that breakfast was ready a moment later, sending everyone scrambling for their seats. 

Soon, all the Weasleys were all smooshed around the table, which, between people and food, was practically bursting at the seams. Buffy, who had purposefully hung back so she wouldn’t take someone’s spot, surveyed the open seats; one between Arthur and Hermione, and one between Charlie and George. 

After setting Winnie on the counter, Buffy sat down next to Hermione. 

Charlie immediately gave her a wounded puppy dog face, but Buffy just rolled her eyes. He liked to lay it on pretty thick when he had an audience, but it was all smoke and mirrors -- and they both knew it. He had the perfect opportunity to do some serious flirting when it had been just the two of them going over the map, but she could’ve been naked for all he cared -- until Bill had come in. 

The only real question was whether he was doing it to needle Bill or their mother, because it obviously made them equally unhappy, even now. 

Thankfully, before the tension could ratchet up too much, Ron came in and sat in the remaining chair; after a quick introduction, the focus turned to the food. 

Considering how busy it had been just a few minutes ago, breakfast was very subdued. Buffy herself couldn’t talk because she was too busy stuffing her face. She normally didn’t eat like that -- she was more a yogurt and cereal girl -- but the past few days had taken a lot of out of her. It didn't hurt that Molly kept heaping food on her plate. Between her and Hermione, they managed to polish off most of the food. 

Molly looked at the girls proudly. “I never thought I’d see the day when my boys got out eaten.”

“Hey now,” George objected. “I would’ve gone for more bacon, but I was afraid one of them would mistake my hand for food.”

That earned him a kick under the table from Angelina and a glare from his mother. Mostly everyone else just ignored him. Only Ron dared to laugh, but at Hermione’s look, he wisely crammed all of his eggs in his mouth, preventing him from making so much as a peep. 

Crisis averted, Arthur looked at Buffy. “So, er, what are you plans after you visit the coven?” 

Buffy bit her lip. It was a valid question, but she had no clue how to answer it. She was still trying to wrap her head around the situation itself. If Bill had suggested it just a day or two ago, she would have shot him down. Besides needing him for his magical knowledge, though, the guy had her back -- even with his own family. 

“I don’t know,” Bill jumped in. “We’re back at square one in many ways, waiting for Greyback to make a move -- except for the moon. It will be full in a few days, and I’m guessing we’ll hear from him then.”

Buffy nodded in agreement. She had been thinking along the same lines -- which was why they needed to find him first. 

Bill’s family took a moment to absorb this and what it meant. 

Hermione was the first to speak. “What can we do?”

“Right now, until we can get the Ministry to get its head out of its arse? Be on guard, always let someone know where you are. No one should travel alone, either, if it can be helped. I hope you have a bit of time saved up from the reserve,” Bill said to his brother. He looked at the clock. “We should go.”

Buffy nodded. As much as the Weasleys had grown on her, she was eager to go. She quickly stood and grabbed Winnie off the counter behind her. When she turned back, all the Weasleys had crowded around Bill. She stood back, thinking that this was a moment for family, but Hermione had other ideas. 

She held out the piece of paper with her notes. “I’ve compiled a list of the most pertinent information I’ve found regarding slayers and potential interactions with magic and wands, as well as some questions you may want to ask the head of the coven. I’m afraid I haven’t made nearly as much progress with Carnwennan. The runes are being particularly troublesome, which, I have to say, aside from being extremely annoying, makes me think that they’re in some sort of code.” 

Buffy took the paper. “Thank you.”

“And here’s something to store it in.” 

Buffy looked up to see George and Charlie standing in front of her, With Charlie’s backpack between them. It used to be his, anyway. It looked a lot smaller. 

“Transfigured to your size with a place for your sword. We heard you needed a new one, and you most certainly cannot go walking around like _that_ ,” Charlie said, looking down at Winnie’s bare blade.

“It’s magically enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, too, so it can hold a lot more than you’d think, including as assortment of goodies, compliments of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes that might help in a pinch,” George said. “As sort of a peace offering?”

Buffy’s eyes lit up. She took the backpack from Charlie and slid Winnie into the makeshift scabbard. “Accepted. For the bacon comment,” she said. “I still owe you one for trying to play doctor.” 

George opened his mouth to protest, but his mother cut in, pulling Buffy to the side. 

“I don’t like the idea of you doing this alone. Do keep in touch. And be careful,” she said with watery smile.

Buffy steadily met her gaze. “He’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Molly straightened up. “That goes for the both of you,” she said firmly. “You are always welcome here, Buffy, and I hope to see you again, even after this mess has been sorted out.”

It was heartfelt and it meant a lot to Buffy, especially since she knew Molly had reservations about her. Impulsively, Buffy hugged her. Though Molly was surprised at first, it didn’t take long for her to return the gesture. 

“Notice how the rest of us didn’t get hugs?” Charlie said loudly. 

“Yeah, what’s that all about?” George chimed in. 

Bill shrugged. “If you insist.”

Then, without missing a beat, he grabbed George and Charlie in a half-hug, half-grappling move. The three brothers wrestled for a minute before Bill finally broke away, grinning from ear to ear. 

As the laughter died down, the mood grew grim. There was nothing left to say but their goodbyes. 

It was more difficult than Buffy expected. Her footsteps were heavy as she and Bill walked out the door. By the time they made it to the shed, she felt like her feet were encased in cement, as all her anxiety returned full force. 

The broom did nothing to help. 

Buffy eyed the flimsy stick in front of her, wondering how it would support the two of them, how the heck she sat on it without falling off-- 

“You’ll want to put this on.” 

Startled, she looked up to see Bill holding a long, billowy black cloak. 

Buffy quirked her eyebrow. “To keep warm up there, or because you guys really like to keep up stereotypes?” 

Bill gave her a wry smile. “It’s spelled with a Disillusionment Charm, so people won’t see us when we’re flying.” 

That made sense. Mostly. It didn’t look like he had one for himself, though. 

“What about you?” 

“I cast the charm on myself and the broom. I didn’t think you’d want a spell directly on you,” he explained. 

Buffy shivered at the thought, and without any more questions, took the cloak from him and fastened it on. It must have been sized just for her, because the hem just barely grazed the ground. 

“Your turn.” 

Buffy looked up in surprise. While she had been looking over her ensemble, Bill had gotten on the broom and was now looking at her expectantly. 

Swallowing her doubts, Buffy took a deep breath and sat on the broomstick behind him. It was surprisingly comfortable. Before she could really get used to it, though, Bill looked over his shoulder. 

“Hold on,” he advised. “I’m going to lift us up a few metres so you can get a feel for it.”

Buffy put her arms around him. By the way he immediately stiffened under her touch, it was obviously an uncomfortable situation for him. Feeling more than a little awkward herself, she vowed to keep as loose a grip as possible. Then he kicked off the ground, and all bets went out the window as she clung to his back for dear life.

“Remember, if you crush my ribs, I won't be able to fly,” Bill wheezed.

Buffy automatically let up -- the tiniest bit. She wasn’t up to full strength yet, so she wasn’t _too_ worried about doing major damage. At least, not enough to outweigh her fear of plummeting to her death hundreds of feet up in the air. 

“Are you ready?” Bill called back to her. 

Buffy took a deep breath. “As I'll ever be.”

+++

If Buffy still had major reservations about magic, they literally flew away in the trip to Devon.

It was easily one of the top ten experiences of her life. Cutting through the air, diving below the clouds, feeling the wind in her hair. She was Princess Jasmine and Rose from Titanic rolled into one -- and she didn’t care if it made her the biggest dork ever. She didn’t even care if Bill knew, which, from the laughter she could feel rumbling in chest as she held on to him, he clearly did. 

Seriously, she could’ve stayed up there forever, feeling so light and so… free. As much as she needed to see Nora and Willow, she was actually disappointed when she spotted the familiar outline of the coven house. Way before she was ready, they landed in front of the house.

With a sigh, Buffy put her feet back on the ground -- figuratively _and_ literally -- and hopped off the broom. Before Bill could follow suit, the front door opened and a small, roly poly woman came out of the house. 

“Hullo there! I’m Maris Figg, and -- As I live and breathe, it really is Bill Weasley!” she exclaimed as she rushed toward them, only stopping when she was less than an arm’s length away from Bill. “I’m so sorry, Nora meant to welcome you herself, but both she and Willow have been detained. They’re just about done, but Nora asked me to fetch you.”

Bill picked up the broom and tucked it under his arm. “Thank you--” he began, but Maris wasn’t done. 

She also made no attempt to take them to Nora. Focusing solely on Bill once again, she just stood there, gazing up at him in open admiration. 

“It is an honor to meet you! I’ve heard all about you and your family, of course. But then who hasn’t? Your family’s contribution to the war was enormous. Terribly sorry about your brother, Fred. And George as well. I can’t imagine how he’s holding up. To lose both your twin and your ear,” she clucked. “But what am I saying! You yourself had no small tragedy. What that scoundrel did to you was criminal…”

Buffy fought the urge to throttle the woman. She knew Maris meant well -- and she confirmed what Buffy had suspected -- but her insensitivity was mind-boggling.

Squeezing herself in between them in a way that couldn’t be ignored, Buffy gave the woman her best blonde smile. “I would’ve kicked myself if I let him get away without knowing who he is.”

“Maris? You must be the person Willow spoke to! Thank you so much for giving me the scoop on Bill,” she said.

She could practically feel Bill’s eyes burning into the back of her head at this tidbit, but she resolutely ignored him. 

Maris blinked at first, completely caught off guard. Soon she was all smiles, though. “Oh, it was the least I could do,” she gushed. “Willow only asked if I had heard of that nasty fellow Greyback, and so of course I had to tell her your story, Bill. If I had only known why she was asking! He and his family are a credit to the Wizarding World, though I’m sure he’s much too modest to tell you that.”

It took all of Buffy’s power to keep a straight face. “Yeah, it’s like I met Mother Teresa herself… which is why I can’t wait for him to meet Willow. And Nora, of course.”

“Oh yes. They’re eager to meet you as well,” Maris said. As if she suddenly remembered her task, she began walking toward the house while continuing to chatter. “Arabella won’t believe me when I tell her you were visiting here, though I’m tempted not to tell her at all. She was so tight lipped about Harry Potter, particularly after that Dementor business, despite…”

As Bill and Buffy fell into step behind her, Bill leaned in close. 

“If this is where you got your information about me, it’s a wonder you didn’t shoot me on sight,” he whispered. 

Buffy smirked. “And deprive the world of your awe-inspiring light?” 

Bill let out a guffaw, which he quickly covered with a cough. Still, it drew Maris’ attention.

“Listen to me, prattling on, when it would be much more interesting to hear how you two met,” she said, as she pulled the front door open. “It’s not very often we fraternize with witches across the pond, is it now?”

Buffy tripped over the threshold at this last part. Maris was too busy looking up at Bill to notice; he, thankfully, was not as preoccupied, his reflexes kicking in just in time to grab her by the elbow and save her from an embarrassing face plant. 

She was completely justified in her clumsiness, though. She had just assumed the whole coven knew she was the slayer. It wasn’t as if this was their first dealing with them, and Nora obviously knew. 

Clearly this wasn’t the case, but she wasn’t going to question it. When it came to Maris, she got the sense that vagueness was her friend. 

With that in mind, she phrased her reply carefully. “We ran into each other, and what can I say? There was a connection, and the rest was history.”

Buffy was pretty pleased with herself. Everything she said was true. They did run into each other -- literally. And they made a connection when her fist met Bill’s face. 

All of this went over Maris’ head, of course. “And now you’re here. Together,” the witch said as she looked at them lingeringly, her gaze straying to where Bill was still holding onto Buffy’s arm. “How lovely.”

Buffy knew what Maris was insinuating, and it made her uncomfortable; Bill, too, as his hand immediately dropped away. She was pretty sure that anything she said would probably fall on deaf ears, though, so she didn’t even try. Her only consolation was that Bill’s ex might get wind of the gossip. 

She hadn’t forgotten what she had overheard back at the Burrow; Bill was hung up on the werewolf thing, partly because he had been scorned by some narrow-minded woman. If there was one thing Buffy knew, it was that nothing burned more than hearing that your ex had moved on -- whether it was true or not. 

Maris continued to look at them speculatively as she led them across the foyer. Luckily, she only walked to the nearest door on the left before she came to a stop.

“This is where I take my leave,” she said, looking disappointed. “You will come round for tea afterward, won’t you?”

“Er, we’ll try our best,” Bill said. 

That perked her up. Maris beamed at him. “Wonderful,” she exclaimed. Then she lifted her hand and knocked.

The door immediately swung opening, revealing Nora, Willow, and a few other women Buffy didn’t recognize seated behind a table. At the sight of the new guests, the others quickly exited, nodding politely to Buffy and Bill as they passed. 

Buffy took a deep breath and began walking towards the remaining two. It was the moment of truth, and she was nervous. 

Sensing this, Bill gave her a playful nudge. “You’ve faced down a Swedish Short Snout. This can’t possibly be worse,” he murmured. 

Buffy made a face. “You haven’t met Nora yet.” 

This elicited a chuckle, and Buffy found herself grinning in response. She was still smiling when they finally stood in front of Willow and Nora. 

She was surprised to see Willow’s eyebrows practically in her hairline as she looked pointedly at Bill before skewering Buffy with a ‘we need to talk’ look. 

Irritated, Buffy immediately returned it with her own ‘yes we do, but not about what you think’ look, which made Willow pale. Satisfied by the reaction, she then launched into her adventures with the sword. 

As she spoke, Willow’s eyes grew rounder and rounder. Nora, on the other hand, looked as though Buffy were reciting the alphabet -- poorly. Still, she was undeterred, making sure she didn’t leave out a single detail. She didn’t go as far as pulling out Hermione’s notes, but she paraphrased freely. By the time she was done, she actually felt a little winded. 

“Wow, Buff. I’m impressed,” Willow blurted out. 

“I can’t take credit. I found the Willow of the Wizardy World,” Buffy admitted. Then she looked at Nora. “Do you have any idea what happened? You know, so I know what _not_ to do next time?”

But Nora said nothing, her lips pursed in thought as she looked at Buffy. After a few long minutes, she held out her hand. 

“May I see the sword?” 

Buffy did as she was asked, though it was a little reluctantly. She didn’t love seeing Winnie in someone else’s hands, even though she knew why Nora needed it. She definitely felt a sense of relief when it was handed back to her a few minutes later. 

“I do not know what occurred,” Nora said stiffly. “Carnwennan has never behaved in that manner before, at least since we gained possession of it. Legends, however, hint that it has the ability to act as a lightning rod of sorts; hence the design on the blade. Likewise, the smoky quartz is said to remove negativity and provide both physical and psychic protection, which is why I thought it might be useful to you.”

“What about the runes? What do they say?” Buffy asked. 

Nora frowned. “The runes are undecipherable. Many have tried to translate them and failed. Perhaps only Merlin himself knew -- and will ever know -- their meaning.”

Beside her, she heard Bill stifle a snort. “You don’t know Hermione,” he muttered. 

Buffy ignored him, though secretly she hoped he was right. “So there’s no reason why my strength and healing have been impacted?”

Nora shook her head. “No, not to my knowledge. I would not have given Carnwennan to your keeping if I thought that was a possibility,” she said, again as if it pained her to admit she had made a mistake. Then with a sniff of disdain, she added, “Of course, I did not think you would be so foolish as to touch a wizard’s wand, either.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at Nora’s jibe. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw both Willow and Bill jump to attention. Bill was just a tad faster. 

“There’s a wand joke in there that my brothers are dying to make,” he said dryly. 

Though she glared at him, Buffy felt her mouth quirk in humor despite herself. By the time she looked back at Nora, the head of the coven had gotten to her feet, clearly done with the conversation. “I regret that I have no more answers for you. I will, however, consult the coven annals to see what they might yield,” she said. 

With that, she swept by Buffy and Bill without a single glance or word of goodbye. When she reached the doorway, however, she paused and turned back. 

“If I had known how powerful Carnwennan could be, I would never have given it to you.”

Buffy frowned. She gave Nora two points for honesty, but geez, the woman didn’t pull any punches. It also sounded like she wanted Winnie back, and it did not make Buffy happy. 

She must have been broadcasting her emotions because Nora shook her head. 

“It was given as a gift,” she replied. Then she gave Buffy a measured look. “Nor would I take it when you have bonded so deeply with it.” 

With that, she was gone.

Buffy blew out a breath of frustration. The first part of her mission was a total failure. She was no closer to figuring out what happened than she was before. Now she was even questioning if Winnie was a liability, at least until she knew what she was in for. She also got the distinct impression Nora had given her the brush off -- in the whole ten minutes she had given her. 

Buffy only hoped part two went a little better. Speaking of which… she turned back toward Willow, who was suddenly acting very skittish. 

“We need to talk.” Buffy’s tone left no question that it was about something serious. 

“Um, sure,” Willow replied. “Maybe after you catch Greyback you can come back here and we can hang for a bit? Ooh, I know! We can go into town and--”

“Now,” Buffy cut in. She looked at Bill apologetically. “Alone.”

Willow brightened at this, a glimmer of triumph in her eyes. “Sorry, Buff. Guests can’t be left alone. Coven rules. Besides, you guys just got here. I’ve got a ton of questions for you both.” 

Buffy narrowed her eyes. She really didn’t want to talk about this in front of Bill, and Willow was obviously counting on that. What she didn’t know was that this conversation was happening, no matter what. 

Bill must have read the situation for what it was, because he cleared his throat. Loudly. “Er, I’m absolutely parched. I think I’ll take Maris up on that tea.” 

Buffy beamed at him. Helping her out was one thing. Taking a _major_ one for the team in the form of Maris was downright heroic. Even if was partly done to get out the middle of this battle of wills. 

Knowing when she had been beat, Willow slumped her shoulders in defeat.

“Come on, she’s probably in the kitchen, with the water halfway to boiling already on the off chance you’ll walk by,” she said grumpily. “Buffy, you and I can go for a walk outside after that.”

One quick trip down a twist of corridors later -- at which point Bill marched into the kitchen like a soldier going into the trenches -- Buffy and Willow were alone. Buffy didn’t say a word until they stepped outside, not even when they made a quick detour to Willow’s room so she could drop off her backpack. As soon as her foot hit the grass, however, it was no holds barred. 

“What’s the deal with the Activation Spell? Are you the battery to its Energizer Bunny? Is that why you don’t have your powers back yet?”

Willow gaped at her for a moment before she managed to recovered. “Honestly, Buffy, the next time you try to claim you’re just the brawn and not the brains, I’m going to whack you over the head.” 

“So I’m right?”

“Mostly. It’s a little more complicated than that. The Guardians were smart ladies. They put safeguards on the Scythe, protecting it from corruption by any outside source. When I performed the Activation Spell…” Willow shrugged. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t try anything that was even remotely dark. As it is, there’s a kind of quid pro quo thing going on where it’s attached itself to me and my magic and won’t let go.”

She said it like it was no big. But she also wouldn’t look Buffy in the eye, focusing instead on her hand as she trailed it across the outer stone wall of the house. 

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” 

The hand on the wall faltered, and reluctantly, Willow met her gaze. “If I can’t break free, there’s a chance it will kill me,” she admitted. Seeing Buffy’s reaction, she quickly added, “But don’t worry! The coven found a way to sever the connection without damaging the Activation Spell, and well, _me_.”

Buffy frowned. “You won’t get your magic back that way, will you?” she asked. “Can you just break the spell outright?”

“Yes, but it would be too risky to try the Activation Spell again. The Scythe really doesn’t like anyone messing with it. So that leaves us with Option One,” Willow said. Before Buffy could protest, she added, “This isn’t up for discussion, Buffy. We all agreed to the Activation Spell, and it’s a done deal as far as the minis are concerned. I’m just making sure it sticks. Besides, it’s my magic, my choice. And one Wicca compared to hundreds of slayers is a no brainer.”

By the stubborn look that settled over Willow’s face, Buffy knew this wasn’t a battle she was going to win. Her guilt wouldn’t allow her to give in without a fight, though; even if it meant grasping at straws.

“What does Giles think about this?” she asked, thinking that if anyone could find the flaws in the plan, it would be him. Then it hit her. “You haven’t told him, have you? What happened to the whole decision by committee thing?”

She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice. She didn’t want to dredge up the past, especially with Willow, but the whole thing still stung -- though it did make her feel marginally better that she wasn't the only one being kept in the dark.

Though Willow flinched, she didn’t back down. 

“I will, I promise,” she said. At Buffy’s pointed look, she rolled her eyes. “ _Before_ I do the spell.”

“Good. I’ll stay here until then, just to make sure you’re okay.”

Willow was shaking her head before Buffy even finished speaking. “No. You can’t. It’s way too dangerous for non-coven, and that goes double for you, especially now.”

She had an answer for everything, and it was annoying. 

Buffy threw her hands up in frustration. “How are you so calm about this?” 

Willow snorted. “Believe me, Buffy, this zen-ness of mine is fresh out of the box. I gave Angel a run for his money in the brooding department for awhile there. Besides, there’s still a chance I can get my magic back. And okay, it’s microscopic, but it’s there.”

“So that’s it then?” Buffy asked. “No discussion? No changing your mind?” 

Willow gave her a measured look. “I’m surprised you’re fighting me on this, Buffy. I thought you of all people would support me.” 

Buffy felt a lump form in her throat. “I want to, and that’s exactly why I can’t. What if it’s for the wrong reasons, selfish ones that could give a rat’s ass about the greater good? I can’t trust that I’m not letting my own feelings of not wanting to be the Slayer get in the way.”

She felt guilty even just thinking it, let alone saying it aloud, but Willow deserved to know the truth. 

Willow linked her arms with her and squeezed. “Anyone in your position would feel the same way. The Shadow Men were jerks who set up the suckiest system in the world,” she reasoned. “I know you don’t want to be _the_ Slayer, but what about being _a_ slayer? Is it really so bad?”

Buffy quirked her eyebrow. “Running across an entire ocean to escape isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, is it?”

It was the easy answer, one she could hide behind. She had been struggling with the same exact issue herself ever she first caught wind of Greyback. Knowing in her heart and knowing in her mind were two very different things, though. And saying it out loud brought it to a whole new level. 

Willow, of course, wouldn’t let her off the hook so easily. “There were very specific reasons for that. Besides, I think we’ve already covered how not convincing your retirement’s been,” she pointed out.

Buffy shook her head, her agitation -- and her voice -- rising with every step. 

“Only because I feel sense of obligation, this... This pathological need to slay. Seriously, do you really think I _like_ being around werewolves and magic? Because let me tell you, there is nothing remotely enjoyable about any of this.”

She said it to convince herself as much as Willow. The problem was neither of them really believed it. The only person who did was Bill. 

She hadn’t noticed, but they had walked all the way around to the back of the house. As soon as the words left her mouth, she heard the sound of someone coughing and spluttering. When she looked up, she saw Bill, sitting in the kitchen window a good 50 feet or so away, his eyes locked on hers as he put down his tea cup.

He looked as though he had been punched in the gut. Then he bolted. 

“Crap, crap, crap!” Buffy exclaimed. She turned toward Willow, who had no idea what was going on. “I’ll be right back.”

Then, without any further explanation, she sprinted around the house toward the front door. 

By the time she reached it, Bill was already coming out. To her relief, he didn’t have his broom or his wand out. He was, however, striding away from the house toward the edges of the property. 

“Bill, wait! Let me explain!” she called out. 

Bill stopped. Instead of being angry like she thought, he looked hurt. 

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Buffy,” he said quietly. “Just tell me this, when you were telling me that I needed to accept who I am, did you believe a word of what you were saying, or were you just completely full of shite?”

Stunned, Buffy didn’t know what to say.

Without another word, Bill walked away.

+++


	12. Piercing the Veil

+++

In his heart, Bill knew the situation wasn’t entirely Buffy’s fault. It was a confidence he wasn’t supposed to hear, one that he had only heard due to a case of extraordinarily bad timing. His conversation with Maris had been positively mind-numbing. To preserve the little brain he had left, he had begun focusing in on his enhanced hearing just as Buffy had come into range.

Unfortunately, that fact didn’t make it hurt any less; not because she was talking about him but because he had actually started to believe her, that he could make peace with the conflict raging within, that he could embrace the wolf without losing himself. It also made it difficult to be around her. She brought out the wolf inside like no other, both intentionally and unintentionally.

And so when he heard her call out to him, he ignored her and continued to walk away from the manor. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was heading; he only knew that he couldn’t stay there, near her. His temper, which was already simmering just below the surface thanks to the impending full moon, was on the verge of bubbling over, despite his best efforts to quash it.

Short of Apparating, however, there was no escaping. She was persistent, if nothing else. Though his stride far outmatched hers, she soon darted out in front of him, blocking his path. 

“Bill! Bill! Will you just wait a minute?” she said. 

“I think you’ve already said all there is to say,” he replied stiffly. 

He tried to walk around her, but she grabbed his arm.

“No, I haven’t. I need to explain,” she insisted. 

His temper rose even higher, and he yanked his arm out of her grasp. “Please, Buffy, just let me be,” he said as he tried to maneuver around her, but she refused to let him pass. “Goddamn it, woman!”

It came out as a snarl, though in truth, he meant it as more of a warning. If it were anyone else, they would have taken the hint, perhaps even recoiled in fear. Not Buffy, though. She merely crossed her arms over her chest, looking completely unfazed; worse, unimpressed. 

“You can growl at me all you want, but I’m not giving up until we talk.”

She wouldn’t, either. Just as easily as she brought out his wolf, she also knew how to wear him down. 

Shoulders slumping, Bill sighed. “You may find this difficult to believe, but I’d rather not hear how I’m just an obligation, and a pretty bloody awful one at that. I already feel the fool for actually believing you when you can’t be arsed to follow your own advice.” 

“Well, when you put it that way,” she joked weakly. When he showed no reaction, she swallowed hard. “I know you think I’m a hypocrite, and well, you’re not wrong. Being a Slayer is literally a death sentence, though. Most girls don’t even make it past a year, and every day until then is nothing but blood and violence and lies. For me, accepting the Slayer part of me has always meant accepting this fate.”

“And you’re not the type to let a little thing like fate push you around,” he noted. Despite decidedly conflicted feelings about her, he couldn't help but admire her for this.

Buffy nodded. “I’m more than just the Slayer. I want more out of life than that. I always have, which is why I’ve run from it kicking and screaming every chance I got,” she said, as her voice became thick with bitterness. “Which of course means that now, when I actually can walk away, I don’t.”

It occurred to him that she all but confirmed what Hermione had said about multiple slayers, but he filed that bit away and focused on the issue at hand. 

“I don’t pretend to know the kinds of sacrifices you’ve had to make. I can’t blame you for not fully embracing it, either, but I can’t help the way that I feel,” he said. Then, because he saw how much it cost her to put herself out there, he added, “Though for what it’s worth, from what I’ve seen these past few days, though the Slayer is a clearly part of who you are, it doesn’t even come close to defining you.” 

His words struck deep. As she looked up at him, her eyes were swirling with emotions.

“I could say the same about you.”

There was no snark, no humor in her voice. Nor was she giving him lip service, simply returning the compliment because it was polite. She was being completely genuine. 

Bill didn’t know what to say. They simply regarded each other for a long moment, an understanding of sorts passing between them, before he finally spoke, purposefully turning away to break the tension. 

“If you could go back in time, would you change it so you never became the Slayer in the first place?” 

She opened her mouth to answer, but she paused as she seemed to rethink her reply. 

“I… I don’t know. I guess not,” she finally said, sounding surprised. “Looking back, I really don’t like who I was before, and I wouldn’t have my sister or any of my friends in my life if I was never Called.”

Bill nodded. He had often asked himself the same question. Unlike her, though, his answer was always yes.

“Bill,” Buffy said quietly, interrupting his thoughts. “About the whole obligation thing, you have to know I was just in vent mode. If anything, you’re--”

Her words abruptly cut off as Willow appeared from around the corner. When her gaze landed on Buffy and Bill, she gasped. From the look on her face, she instantly regretted her interruption. It was too late to back out now, however, so she continued to proceed towards them. 

“Uh, hi guys. Don’t mind me. You left kind of unexpectedly, Buffy, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and clearly you are, so I’ll just go… somewhere else,” she said. 

She started to leave, and Buffy didn’t stop her, though she looked torn. It was Bill who stepped in.

“No,” he said, a bit more forcefully than he intended. “I’ll go. I need to go back to my home for a bit.”

Buffy frowned. “You’re leaving?” she asked.

Her eyes flashed with hurt when he nodded. 

“I can’t imagine you've gotten all the answers you need here and I’m not much use here in the meantime,” Bill pointed out. “I do, however, have notes back at my home that may be useful going forward.”

He felt cowardly for his excuse, and it wasn’t the brightest idea to split up, but he needed some time to himself to clear his head. Besides, it was true that he had information about Greyback back at Shell Cottage, just as it was obvious that Buffy had her own unresolved issues to work out with her friend. Still, it was an excuse, something of which they were both well aware. 

Not surprisingly, his plan didn’t sit well with Buffy.

“How will I get in touch with you? Or know if something goes wrong?” she asked. 

“My house is heavily warded and will only allow me entrance. But if you don’t hear from me in a few hours, let Maris know. She’ll know how to reach me, or at least be able to contact someone who can,” he said.

Even as he spoke, however, he could see the flaws in his proposal. Not wishing to strain things between them any more, he wracked his brain for a reasonable compromise. It came to him in a bolt of inspiration.

Before she could argue, he pulled out the tie holding his hair back, then his fang earring until they were both in his hand. A moment later, he had his wand out, hovering over the two objects, as he murmured a quick Protean Charm. 

There was the slightest hesitation before his magic began to flow, but soon he felt the charm settle. After taking a moment to replace his earring, he started to hold the tie out to Buffy, who along with Willow had been watching him with rapt attention. Before he gave it to her, however, he paused. 

Essentially, he had taken Hermione’s brilliant idea of charming objects as a form of communication and made a rudimentary version of his own. A hair tie wasn’t the most convenient, however. He assumed she wouldn’t actually put it in her hair -- nor would she want to, if it could potentially heat up -- and it could easily be lost in a pocket. 

No, he thought, he needed something that wouldn’t be burdensome. 

Eyes alighting on her necklace, Bill knew what it should be. With a quick Transfiguration spell, he turned the tie into a ring, one that matched the necklace. 

With a smile of triumph, he handed it to Buffy. 

“It’s spelled so that it will heat up when I activate it, which I’ll do if I run into any trouble,” he said. “It’s a bit crude. It can’t tell you where I am, and it can only work one way. If I had more time, I could probably figure out something a bit more sophisticated, but this should do in a pinch. Here, put it on so we can test it.”

Gingerly, Buffy took the ring from him, taking the time to examine it from every angle before gingerly putting it on the index finger of her right hand. She gasped when she felt it heat up a moment later. Still, she wasn’t convinced.

“How will I know the spell hasn’t worn off, or if it goes wonky?” she asked. 

“You’ll just have to trust in me and my magic,” Bill said quietly. He knew it was a low blow, but he wasn’t sorry he said it. Without waiting to see her reaction, he turned toward Willow. “I need to retrieve my broom. I left it in the kitchen with Maris.”

“I’ll walk you in,” she offered. “Buffy, I’ll meet you in the garden after so we can finish our conversation?”

Buffy frowned, obviously taken aback by Willow’s suggestion, but she didn’t argue. Without another word, Bill and Willow began to walk toward the house. It was done mostly in silence, for which Bill was grateful. He noticed the sidelong looks she gave him on their journey, however, and knew the quiet was only temporary. 

It lasted until they entered the manor.

“You and Buffy have gotten close pretty quickly.”

Bill frowned. “I’m not sure I’d say that, all things considered.”

While she didn’t know the intimate details of what had just occurred, it would have been impossible for her to miss the strain between them. She brushed this off, though.

“Please, you’re one smoldering look away from finishing each other’s sentences,” she scoffed. 

Bill gave an astonished laugh.

Willow raised her eyebrows questioningly at this. “Is that the laugh of someone in denial or someone trying to deflect?”

“It’s the laugh of someone imagining Buffy’s response when she hears of your… observation,” he retorted.

Willow gulped. “Touche,” she replied. She looked at him with a hint of respect before it turned into a smirk. “Of course, you know you’re kinda proving my point.” 

That wiped the smile from his face.

Willow grinned triumphantly. “Okay, okay, ‘grr’ face duly noted. I promise I won’t badger you any more… for now. Remind me to tell you a story about a shovel when you get back, though.”

+++

When Bill entered Shell Cottage, the smell of stale air and spoiled Wolfsbane potion assaulted him. He immediately strode over to the shuttered windows and threw them open -- which only served to illuminate the thin layer of dust covering just about everything inside, from the mess of papers in the living room, which had transformed into his base of operations as of late, to the pile of take away containers littering the kitchen countertop.

There was no question about it. Shell Cottage was in desperate need of a cleaning. His mother would have been aghast to see what had become of the once cheery home -- which was probably why he had closed the Floo to all but calls months ago.

Bill himself felt a jolt of shock as he surveyed his home -- but it wasn’t because of the state of Shell Cottage itself. He was well aware that his housekeeping had gone from lacking to nonexistent over the course of the past year. 

What surprised him was that it was the first time it bothered him. 

It revealed the degree to which he was becoming attuned to his wolf instincts, so that the sights and smells bothered him more than they ever had before. It also revealed a cold, hard truth, one he had been unwilling -- perhaps even unable -- to see until that very moment. 

The wolf didn’t define who he was, but he was acting as if it did. Worse, he was _letting_ it, to the point where it was dictating his life; the self imposed isolation from his friends and family, the fear and subsequent loathing of the slightest hint of wolfishness in his behavior, even his obsession with Greyback. Shell Cottage was simply the physical manifestation of all that.

The irony was that the more unwilling he was to accept the wolf as part of him, the larger it loomed in his life. If he wasn't careful, he'd be in the exact same predicament after the Greyback business was over with, perhaps even worse, if he continued down this path.

Determined to become the master of his own destiny once again, Bill vowed to make a change and get his priorities sorted right then and there. It wouldn’t be easy. There was still the rest of the Wizarding World to contend with, and he wasn’t a fool to think there wouldn’t be some backsliding of his own. He needed to start somewhere, and that was Shell Cottage.

His first order of business was to cast a few quick cleaning charms to lift the dust and grime. Next, he dumped all the bottles of Wolfsbane in the rubbish. He had never actually taken any, but he always had George brew him a batch, just in case. 

A few more spells, and Shell Cottage began to look respectable. 

Satisfied for the time being, Bill set to his real task and sat amongst the notes he had collected over the past few weeks. He had committed most of them to memory, which was why he hadn’t bothered to retrieve them before now. As he dug through his papers now, however, he was glad he had come back. 

When he had first realized that Greyback had returned, Bill spent a fair amount of time researching where Greyback had been since the Battle of Hogwarts. It was mostly done to find proof of the bastard’s existence for the Ministry. Unfortunately, he had never found conclusive evidence, only whispers and rumors of strange beasts lurking in the forests and woods of several countries.

As Bill and Buffy’s jaunt to Sweden had proven, however, Greyback hadn’t been idle in his time away. Now Bill scoured his notes for some clues as to what he had been up to and what it meant in the grand scheme of things. 

He had just gotten to his papers on Romania when Hermione’s headed appeared in his fireplace. 

“Bill! You _are_ there! I thought your mother’s clock was off its rocker. Of course it begs the question, what on earth are you doing there?”

Bill winced at Hermione’s voice, which had practically risen to a shout by the end. “I, uh, thought I’d look into a few things while Buffy saw to her business at the coven.”

He could practically feel her ire through the Floo.

“Buffy isn’t there with you?! Really, Bill, sometimes I wonder just what exactly--”

“Is there some reason why you’re calling, other than to yell at me?” he interrupted. 

Hermione pursed her lips together in annoyance before nodding. “Actually, yes,” she admitted. She leaned closer toward the fire, as if she were afraid of someone else hearing. “I… I think I’ve found someone else who’s aware of Greyback’s return.”

“Really? Who is it?” Bill asked eagerly. 

But Hermione didn’t immediately respond. Instead, she looked around nervously before she took a deep breath. “I suppose I should just come out and say it. But I don’t want any grief from you. I’ve had enough from Ron and Harry already, thank you very much,” she huffed. Then she sighed. “It’s Draco Malfoy.”

Bill gaped at her. “What? Why do you think that?”

His mind automatically assumed that she meant Malfoy was in league with Greyback. Therefore, her next statement completely floored him.

“Malfoy sent me an owl, claiming he needs help. Well, demanding is more like--”

“He said he wants your help with Greyback?” Bill exclaimed.

Hermione made a face. “Not exactly. This is Malfoy we’re talking about, and he’s still the same arrogant git from school. If you must know, his letter is extremely vague. I had to sort through endless insults to find the actual message, but he’s requesting that the Ministry return certain items to him. Specifically, his father’s snake head cane, an amulet of his mother’s, and an assortment of books, including ancient alchemical texts,” she revealed. When she saw the doubt written all over his face, she rushed to explain. “Think about it. His father’s _silver_ cane, his mother’s amulet, which incidentally is imbued with aconite among other protective herbs, and books on alchemy, a highly controversial yet intriguingly sound theory on how to cure lycanthropy.”

“It seems extremely far-fetched,” Bill said slowly. “And if it’s not, it’s too much of a coincidence. Honestly, why you? And why now? Isn’t it all a little suspect?”

Hermione began fidgeting uncomfortably. “He may think that the Ministry owes him one, that _I_ owe him one.”

Bill narrowed his eyes suspiciously, beginning to understand the real reason why Harry and Ron were so peeved. “And why would he think that?”

Hermione shrugged. “Perhaps because I took part in the removal and cataloguing of all Dark Arts objects from his home after the war, thus giving me intimate knowledge of his private collections, including a book on slayers, which I may have asked to borrow, among other valuable books on merpeople, centaurs, and goblins to avoid suspicion, under the guise of official Ministry business?”

“Hermione!” Bill exclaimed, completely aghast at the position she had put herself in just to help him. Then he paused as the humor of the situation hit him. “You stole his books?”

“I’m going to give them back,” she replied crossly. “Besides, he owes both me and Harry. If not for Harry testifying on his behalf or for me volunteering to oversee his parole after his house arrest ended when no one else would do it, he would’ve been punished much more severely than he was.”

“He also knew you would feel obligated to help him if the situation arose. Or it’s trap to get you to lower your guard,” he pointed out. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “What do the others think about this?”

“Well, Ron’s barely speaking to me at the moment, but Harry claims there’s insufficient evidence to act in any official capacity. Unofficially, he thinks that Malfoy would rather eat a bucket of flesh-eating slugs than be helpful in any way, unless he’s actually working with Greyback, in which case he’ll receive us with open, yet unbearably caustic, arms,” she admitted grudgingly. 

Bill was inclined to agree with Harry.

Hermione harumphed. “Look, I’m not saying we should automatically trust the arse, but he may know something. At the very least, we should keep an eye on him. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s involved, not yet. Greyback has just as much reason to hate Death Eaters as us, especially ones like Malfoy who made it through the aftermath relatively unscathed. From the time I was captured in Malfoy Manor, I know Malfoy has no love for Greyback, either. Maybe most importantly, it would serve no purpose. Malfoy’s still as selfish as they come, and this doesn’t serve his best interest. He wants the power and prestige his family once had, and he’s not going to get it through an alliance with Greyback.”

“Revenge doesn’t always make sense,” Bill said quietly. 

“Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I don’t think it’s impossible to believe that Greyback would go after Death Eaters just as readily as he does us, but you’re all too pigheaded to see it,” she snapped. Before she could continue her rant, something caught her attention. “It looks as though Harry is trying to come through the Floo, so I need to go. Please just consider it. It may be the only lead we get, however tenuous it may be.”

Hermione’s head disappeared from the flames. Before Bill could think over what she had said, however, another head appeared in his fireplace. 

“Bill!” Harry exclaimed. “I’m so glad I caught you. Something’s happened in Woolacombe. There’s a small Wizarding enclave next door in Bradwell. The pub there is connected to the Floo, called the Hair of the Three Headed Dog. Can you meet me there in say 15 minutes?”

+++

Bill looked at the crowd of Muggles gathered at the entrance of Cleave Wood. They all were jockeying for position up front, pointing large black contraptions at an official looking man as he prepared to speak. Behind him the area was cordoned off, where Bill could faintly hear dogs and men scouring the woods.

Silently, he cursed. 

He and Harry had hoped to conduct their own search, but there was no chance now, not with so many others here, particularly the dogs.

They had known that it was a risk coming here, that they would most likely be unsuccessful, but they had to try. Two girls had been killed here last night. According to the new report that Harry had seen, thanks to his diligent monitoring of anything that was indicative of Greyback’s presence, local teenagers had gathered for a party. Somehow the girls were separated from the group and attacked; by wild dogs, the local authorities believed, but Bill and Harry knew differently, of course. 

It had to be Greyback. It was simply too much of a coincidence otherwise. Greyback’s first note had lured Bill to this very town, which meant the bastard was either trying to taunt him, send him a message, or lure him here; perhaps even all three. It was why he and Harry were currently under the Invisibility Cloak instead of simply blending in with the Muggles present. 

The only drawback was that it kept them on the periphery, and Bill was itching for a closer peek into the woods; for if it was indeed Greyback, the werewolf would leave a clue or a message -- something to get Bill’s attention so that there would be no mistaking his work.

Bill also wouldn’t have minded the opportunity to stretch his legs a bit, feeling quite uncomfortable hunched under the cloak. 

“I haven’t the slightest clue how the three of you wandered around under this,” he grumbled, remembering the stories the trio had.

“We were a lot smaller then,” Harry whispered back. “That, and I don’t think Ron minded getting too close to Hermione.”

Bill bit back a snort. “Fair enough, but since I don’t have any intentions of snogging you, I find quarters to be a bit tight.”

Harry chuckled in response. He quickly quieted down, however, as the man up front began speaking. 

At first, he simply went over the details of the attack, information Harry had already gleaned. It was when he began accepting questions that he had Bill’s full attention.

“Yes, based on an examination of the bite marks, it looks as though it’s the same pack that recently attacked livestock… Yes, we can say for certain that it is a pack we’re dealing with. Forensics was able to determine at least 4 distinct sets of teeth… We’re asking all residents to be watchful and report any suspicious activity to us, and most importantly to stay out of the woods until we have determined that there is no longer a threat. Thank you.”

At this, some of the people began to disperse, and for the first time since they had arrived, Bill was glad he and Harry had stayed on the edges, as he was too gobsmacked to do much of anything, much less weave and dodge in a coordinated effort with Harry. Discovering Greyback had a pack -- one that could somehow transform before the full moon -- robbed him of most of his faculties.

It made sense, of course, now that he knew. It explained how Greyback’s attacks were so incredibly intense, so well-planned. It also changed the situation entirely.

“We must tell the others,” Harry whispered. 

Bill nodded. 

He started to turn back toward the road, but he stopped cold as he received a second shock in as many minutes. 

Now that the crowd had dispersed, Bill had a better view of the entrance. Now he could see the makeshift memorials the crowd had made for the two girls, leaving flowers, stuffed animals, and messages of love and sympathy near the trailhead. 

They had also left pictures. 

Bill stared at the two smiling faces. Beside him, he heard Harry gasp. 

“Sweet Merlin! Do you see--”

Bill growled in response, unable to help his reaction.

The girls only had a passing resemblance to Buffy and Hermione. In fact, other than the hair, the similarities were few. If Bill had seen the pictures separately, he would have thought nothing of them. Together, however, he could only draw one conclusion.

 _This_ was Greyback’s message. Of that he had no doubt.

Bill felt the prickle of anger he had been feeling for the past few days erupt into a full blaze.

+++


	13. Middlegame

+++

Dawn frequently harped on Buffy about her need for control. It irked Buffy to no end -- mostly because her sister was right. Though she liked to tell herself that she wasn’t majorly uptight -- and even managed to believe it most of the time -- deep down she knew the truth.

She was neither easy nor breezy. She was a control freak -- which meant the last few hours had set her teeth on edge.

Logically, she knew she shouldn’t have been so wound up. She had been in worse situations before, and she had definitely made bigger mistakes. During those other times, however, she had known that no matter how crazy and out of control the situation got, she could always count on one thing -- herself. With her slayerness still partially MIA, she couldn’t do that here, and it upped the anxiety factor exponentially -- as did the guilt. 

No amount of talking it out with Willow would help, either, though she had tried. Neither would Tai Chi or meditation. She needed an outlet, one that was pretty high on the intensity scale. 

Unfortunately, being where she was and feeling like she did, her options were limited. The best she could come up with was running, which was not normally her aerobic activity of choice. It was better than nothing, though, so she borrowed some workout clothes and accessories from Willow without a single grumble. 

A few cursory stretches later, she was ready to go. 

Instead of easing into it like she probably should have, she was off like a shot as soon as she stepped outside, her pace immediately matching the energetic beat of the Black Eyed Peas blaring through her headphones. Though her stride was a little awkward at first -- because while Willow’s yoga pants and tank top fit fine, her sneakers were a little big -- she soon developed a steady rhythm as she ran along a path that followed the perimeter of the coven’s property. 

According to Willow, the trail actually used to be a wall. Eventually, as the coven grew stronger and the stones were needed for the manor, the wall was taken down and replaced with more inconspicuous wards. The footprint of the wall became a path, which was used to demarcate the property line amongst the acres and acres of trees. It also provided an antsy slayer with a good workout in a pinch. 

That was the theory, anyway. Even after Buffy was a good mile or two in, however, both her body and mind were still rigid with tension. No matter how hard she tried to clear her mind, she couldn't forget the look of hurt on Bill’s face or her own shock at Willow’s secrecy. And no matter how hard she ran, she couldn't get Willow’s magic back or fix things between her and Bill.

Almost angrily, Buffy pumped her legs even faster, just as she reached the base of a steep incline. She knew she was pushing it, could feel herself tiring, her muscles aching, but she didn’t care. If anything, it made her even more determined. 

It was this tunnel vision that made her miss it at first; the shadow, darting in between trees below. The second time there was no mistaking it, though.

Startled, her stride faltered, causing Buffy to trip over an exposed tree root. She tried to catch herself before she fell on her face, but she was just a shade off; whether it was because her shoes were too big or her coordination still wasn’t up to snuff, she couldn’t get her feet under her in time. She actually made the situation worse by trying. With her left leg now partially underneath her but unable to compensate for her momentum, it buckled, changing her trajectory slightly to the left so that she fell sideways off the path onto the face of the hill, which was nothing but a slope full of slippery exposed roots. 

With no traction on her sneakers to speak of, she could do nothing but half-slide, half-trip down the steep hill she had just spent so much energy sprinting up. When she finally hit the bottom, it was with a solid thud.

“Ow, ow, ow,” she muttered as she picked herself off the ground.

In reality, though, she knew not much was bruised except her pride, but she had to put on a show.

Her headphones had become dislodged in the fall, and now that they were out, she could hear how eerily quiet the woods were. Between that and the shadow she had seen, she knew it wasn’t good. It didn’t take a genius to guess who was out there, either. 

While still pretending to recover from the fall, Buffy quickly took stock of the situation. It didn’t take long for her to decide what to do. While she could try to make a break for it up the path, she would never make it in time. Her best option was to make a stand.

A part of her relished the thought of ending it all, here and now. Even with a handicap, she could handle a werewolf. The only real problem was that she was weaponless. Summoning Winnie was out; it took too much time and energy, and she could waste neither. Besides, Winnie a liability as much as an asset against a Wizard, and she wasn’t ready for another magical whammy.

She would just have to improvise.

Acting as if she were tying her sneaker, Buffy bent down and picked two rocks off the ground as surreptitiously as she could. It was just in the nick of time. No sooner did she have them in her hand than she heard the faintest sound to her left. 

Whipping around as fast as she could, she hurled one of the rocks at the shadow there. She was relieved to see her throw was mostly true, though her target disappeared before it could make contact. 

“You’re a crafty bitch, aren’t you?”

Buffy whirled toward the right, toward the sound of the voice. He sounded far away, almost thirty feet, but she knew that could change in an instant. 

Knowing the best way to keep tabs on him was to keep him talking, she quickly replied -- even as she slowly maneuvered into a better field position. 

“You think that’s good? You should see my découpage. Martha Stewart’s got nothing on me.”

“You’ve got guts. It makes me want to play with them,” he growled, suddenly somewhere on her left.

Buffy rolled her eyes as she readied another rock. “You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you?” 

His chuckle was still on her left but closer now, and she tensed, ready for action. 

“I plan to do more than that, girlie.”

As he spoke, she heard the faint sound of a twig breaking on her right. 

Buffy froze in disbelief. He wasn’t alone. There were more of them out there, ones that she hadn’t even sensed, hadn’t even _bothered_ to try to sense. He was just trying to distract her, pretty successfully, too. Now she was a sitting duck against an unknown number of enemies with no weapons and no exit plan. 

Before she could worry about the details too much, they attacked. 

The first one came at her from the left, popping into sight from out of thin air. Before he could move a muscle, she had another rock headed straight for him. 

It passed harmlessly through the wisps of smoke left in his wake, though she barely had time to see. She was too busy ducking a spell thrown from behind her.

As fast as she could, she picked up another rock and whipped it behind her. She had barely gotten that one off when another one attacked, this time coming from the right. From the way he suddenly appeared, he was obviously a wizard, too. He didn’t use his magic to attack, though. Instead, he lunged for her, his teeth bared and claws extended. 

It was his mistake.

She leapt up and delivered a quick spinning hook kick. Though she lacked her usual power and finesse, sheer adrenaline made up for it. Her foot connected solidly and he stumbled back. It took a follow up kick to send him flying backward into a tree, though, which thankfully rendered him unconscious.

Before she could get too annoyed at her lack of proficiency, before her feet even touched the ground, someone appeared behind her. It could have been the first guy who had attacked her, Greyback, or another wizard altogether; she didn’t know. All she could see was his arms as they wrapped around her like iron bands and lifted her off the ground, momentarily neutralizing her with his werewolf strength.

Not that it stopped Buffy. She simply pulled her head forward before whipping it back as hard as she could. 

There was a satisfying _crunch_ right before the arms around her loosened. Just as her feet hit the ground, however, she heard someone shout something, a spell by the sound of it.

Then all she felt was pain.

It exploded behind her eyes, in her head, in her chest, _everywhere_ , like a million hot pokers all trying to get out at the same time, making her entire body seize and spasm as she crumpled to the ground.

Instead of fighting the pain, Buffy let it wash over her, focusing instead on the leaves of a nearby tree. Interestingly, as she did this, the necklace around her neck began to warm up; and the warmer it got, the less pain she had. Oh, she was still in a world of hurt, and it seemed to go on forever, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been in those first few seconds, or as bad as she suspected it was supposed to be. 

That didn’t mean that she had escaped completely unscathed, though. The spell was wreaking havoc on her kinesthetically, especially since a second round quickly followed the first. When that one was over, she was left gasping and shaking on the ground. 

Buffy knew she would be hard pressed to win a head on fight with all three werewolves after this; however, she was pretty sure she’d still be able to mount an escape, something that they hopefully wouldn’t expect. Sadly, before that could happen, someone -- Greyback, she presumed -- materialized in front of her. She couldn’t tell for sure, because one, she had never seen him before, and two, because the person in front of her was wearing a cloak, unlike the other two. Underneath his hood, however, she could just make out his smirk.

Buffy had no choice. Drawing on all her acting skills -- which admittedly weren’t all that great -- she curled into the fetal position and whimpered. 

Thankfully, Greyback bought it. It probably helped that the tremors wracking her body were real. As it was, she could only watch as he began to gather the troops, obviously thinking it was safe to leave her alone. He started with the unconscious werewolf next to the tree to her right.

“Stupid fuck,” he muttered, giving the werewolf a less than gentle kick as he pointed his wand at the prone figure. “ _Ennervate_.”

Then, just like that, the guy on the ground woke up. 

Inwardly, Buffy scowled. That was cheating. 

Knowing the odds were starting to stack up against her again, she began to flex her muscles, willing as much strength into them as she could.

“Goddamn bitch broke my ribs!”

“Broke my nose, too,” another voice said, this one coming from behind her to the left, just outside her peripheral vision.

It was all Buffy could do to swallow her smile. She knew what kind of pain they must have been in, even with their dense werewolf bone structure. She may not have been up to full strength, but she wasn't too far off and she definitely hadn’t held back. Her only regret was that she hadn’t done more damage. Still, while it didn’t completely make up for killing baby animals, it was a start. 

Greyback wasn’t as amused. He turned toward Broken Nose -- and by extension, her -- and sneered. 

“Need me to fix it and make it better?”

The whining immediately stopped. 

With a cruel laugh, Greyback turned his attention to Buffy, which really put a crimp in her escape plan. The werewolf with the broken ribs immediately flanked him, a hungry look in both their eyes. Interestingly, as they stared at her, Greyback put his wand back in the pocket of his cloak as he stared. She noticed the other werewolf didn’t have his out at all.

Based on what Buffy has seen so far, it wasn’t too surprising. 

Although they had used their magic to pop around her like evil whack-a-moles, at a baser level they were werewolves. They enjoyed the brutality, the exhilaration of the hunt. She understood it firsthand -- and she could use it against them. She just hoped she could avoid being turned into a werewolf in the process. 

Almost as if he could read her mind, Greyback began advancing toward her with a snarl, his claws extending as he moved.

Still, Buffy held steady and waited, watching as they drew closer and closer. She needed to catch them by surprise if this was going to work, and that meant not showing her hand until they were within striking distance; so while she made sure to keep her eyes on her attackers, she didn’t stare for too long, her gaze darting around as if she were afraid. 

And wouldn’t you know? They soaked it in, practically salivated over it, so much so that they never realized what she was planning.

Of course, Greyback had a surprise of his own. He turned to Broken Nose and said, “Grab her and take her back. I’ll leave a message for Weasley.”

Buffy knew she couldn’t let them touch her. If they did, they could pop her out to Timbuktu if they wanted. As the werewolf approached, she tensed, ready to spring into action when she saw the proverbial whites of his eyes. 

Before it even came to that, before he could take more than two steps in her direction, she heard Bill calling for her. 

He had come back. Buffy couldn’t help but grin, her earlier anxiety becoming practically nonexistent at the sound of his voice. In fact, between that and her adrenaline high, she was feeling like herself again.

Greyback didn’t share her good mood.

“Weasley!” he hissed, his eyes quickly scanning the area around him. 

The other two werewolves followed suit. 

Buffy knew an opportunity when she saw one. She immediately sprang to her feet. Instinctively, Broken Nose lunged for her, but she grabbed his hand and, using his momentum against him, flipped the unsuspecting werewolf over her shoulder into the one on her other side, though by this time her body was screaming in pain. She simply pushed on through and made a run for it. 

As the werewolves thudded at his feet, Greyback snarled, enraged. He immediately tried to stop her, popping in front of her, but she was expecting that. Even as his smoke began to appear, her fist was already flying toward the center. 

He howled as she made contact. Unfortunately, he had enough presence of mind to disappear as soon as he hit the ground. Knowing it would be useless to try and chase after him, Buffy sprinted up the hill.

He must have retrieved his wand from his pocket because a jet of magic whizzed by her a few seconds later. By then, however, it was too late; she was at the top of the hill, her feet firmly on the path. 

Almost at the same time, Bill came crashing into view, his red hair flying all around him as he raced toward her. 

Not wanting to be seen was apparently still a top priority. She heard the tell tale _whoosh_ of Greyback disappearing in a puff of smoke, quickly followed by his lackeys. To her surprise, even though the threat was obviously gone, Bill continued to rush toward her like a mad man. 

She had seen him angry before, but this was something completely different. Wanting to assure him the threat was gone, Buffy held up her hands in a placatory gesture just as he reached her.

"It's okay, Bill. No one with 'ill intent' can cross over the property line, thanks to some nifty magical wards. I don’t think going after them would do any good, either. They’re probably trying to put as much distance between us as they can.”

Bill seemed to acknowledge her words with a grunt, but he said nothing. With his eyes blazing as brightly as his hair, he simply grabbed her by the shoulders and began looking her over intently for any scratches or bites. When he saw that she was fine, he released her shoulders and enveloped her in a hug so fierce, Buffy felt it all the way down to her toes.

It was safe to say he wasn’t mad at her anymore. 

Feeling more than a little flustered -- both at his action and her reaction -- she defaulted to her tried and true standby in situations like this; deflection. 

“Oh, c’mon, no comments about karma biting me in the ass? I’ll even let you get a shot in for free,” she joked lightly.

His response was muffled, his voice dazed. “I thought-- How are you still alive?”

“Bad habit of mine?” she offered. 

That finally snapped Bill out of it, and he laughed a little self-consciously as he released her. “It’s a habit of yours I’m quite fond of.”

Though he kept his tone light, he wouldn’t look her in the eye, and his face was tinged red with embarrassment.

Buffy bit her lip. She had definitely ruined the moment. She could practically see him withdrawing into himself. "Bill, I'm sorry, I--" she started to say, but he cut her off.

"No, I'm the one who should apologize. I shouldn't have done that," he said brusquely. "We should probably go some place more secure. It looks like we have some notes to compare." 

He had misunderstood what she meant. 

Instead of clearing the air like she should have, she, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, chickened out. 

“Back to the manor it is, then,” she replied. 

With that, she began walking back toward the house. Bill soon joined her, though he kept half a step behind. At first, neither of them spoke. Before things could drift too far into the land of awkward, however, Bill cleared his throat. 

"So," he said. "What the hell happened back there?"

Buffy felt a sense of relief, knowing she was on much firmer ground. Almost chirpily, she recapped the events, making sure to leave nothing out. 

Her story had the opposite effect on Bill. By the time she was finished, he had a black look on his face.

“While I was away, my brother-in-law contacted me. There was another ‘wild dog’ attack in Woolacombe. Two girls were killed, girls who bore a resemblance to you and Hermione,” he said hoarsely. His jaw flexed angrily as he fought back his temper. “I thought it was a warning, that he meant to _kill_ you, but it seems like he has more planned than just that.”

Buffy made a face. "I know. Can I just say he’s in for a rude awakening? And that I can’t wait to be the one to give it to him?” she said. “What I want to know is how they even found me."

"I don’t know,” Bill replied. “I suppose they could have followed us. The Fidelius Charm on my parents’ house prevents Greyback from finding it, but he knows the approximate location from the war. All he had to do was keep an eye on the area.”

Buffy frowned. “That sounds like a longshot.”

It didn’t sit well with Bill, either. “I know,” he conceded. “Though it makes sense that he would have a set of eyes on the Burrow with Hermione there…”

He paled at that and pulled out his wand. Before he cast a spell, however, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then, after a quick sideways glance at Buffy, he began swishing his wand in a circle.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” he said. 

Buffy inhaled sharply as an animal emerged from the tip of his wand, one that looked like it was made of pure light, though she couldn’t tell what kind of animal it was. It was definitely some kind of wolf or fox, or maybe a mix between the two. As she tried to figure it out, Bill leaned down toward it and spoke. 

“Greyback may be watching the Burrow. Be extremely careful with your comings and goings.”

The animal nodded and then dashed off into the woods, leaving a trail of silvery white vapor in its wake. 

“Whoa,” Buffy breathed. She looked at Bill expectantly. “And that was…” 

“My Patronus. It’s… like a spirit guardian made up of positive energy. Its main purpose is to provide protection against certain Dark creatures, but it can also be used to deliver messages, particularly ones of an urgent nature.”

“And they always look like that?” Buffy asked, intrigued.

Bill shook his head, his lips stretching in a tight smile. “Like a jackal? No. It’s always an animal, but one the caster has a particular affinity to,” he explained. Clearly not wanting to talk anymore about it, he changed the subject. “By attacking you and failing in the attempt, Greyback may have forced his own hand. Even though he’s still hiding his identity so I can’t positively confirm his existence, we know his plan, and we know he’s not alone. He’ll have to move more quickly now.” 

Buffy nodded in agreement. She didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing, though. While people in these kinds of situations could become more dangerous, more reckless, they also tended to get sloppy. The botched attack itself could have been a slip, more of a crime of opportunity than anything else. 

Figuring out what Greyback was going to do was secondary anyway, at least in her mind. The most important thing was figuring out what she and Bill were going to do. They had been on their heels since this whole adventure had first started, always on the defensive, and she was sick of it. 

It was time for _them_ to be on the offensive. It was time to take control. 

She resolutely ignored that little voice in her head that said the situation smacked of her decision to attack the winery in Sunnydale. She also ignored the voice that reminded her she had actually resolved nothing in regards to Bill, Willow, or slaying as a whole. She would focus on getting Greyback first and then she would figure out everything else.

Her mind made up, she turned toward Bill. At the same time, Willow appeared at the edge of the woods, sprinting towards them at full tilt. When she spotted them, she eased up a little, but not much. Behind her was Nora. The head of the coven wasn’t moving with nearly the same speed or sense of alarm, but she was still somehow keeping up. 

They both reached Buffy and Bill a few moments later. 

“Buffy! Thank Goddess you’re okay! Nora sensed a disturbance,” Willow said, in between gasps for breath. 

“I was attacked,” Buffy said grimly. “By Greyback.”

Willow’s eyes widened. “Here?” she gasped. Then she shook her head. “Nevermind. What can we do?”

“We can do nothing,” Nora cut in, as calm as can be. She looked at Buffy. “We are… sympathetic, but we must focus our energy on the Activation Spell -- and prepare ourselves in the event of another attack. This is also an issue for his people to resolve, not ours. In light of all this, you may stay a little longer, but I must ask that you leave by nightfall.”

Then she turned around and began walking back to the manor, leaving no room for discussion. 

Buffy was surprised, but Willow was struck speechless. 

“I-- She-- I’m going to--” 

“She was pretty clear on the issue,” Buffy cut in.

Frustrated, Willow threw her hands up in the air, obviously not used to doing nothing. “What about calling Giles and seeing if they could help?” 

It was a bold suggestion, all things considered, but Willow didn’t flinch. Unfortunately for her, neither did Buffy, and it was because of their previous discussion that she felt perfectly free to shoot the idea down.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Nora, but this is mostly a Wizard thing,” she said. “Involving the gang would bring on a host of issues I don’t think anyone is prepared for.” 

The best part was that it was true. Though she obviously had personal reasons for not involving the others, of which Willow was painfully aware, she was worried about this Grenadine Accord and the fallout it could cause. Besides, it wasn’t like she was dealing with an apocalypse. 

Willow looked like she wanted to argue, but it was an exercise in futility, and she knew it. 

Triumphantly, Buffy turned to look at Bill. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of letting Greyback dictate the rules of the game. I say we take the fight to him.” 

Bill’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “And how do you propose we do that?”

Buffy hesitated, partly because she honestly had no idea -- yet -- and partly because another silvery animal was charging at them; a huge stag that made a beeline right for Bill. 

Though the animal itself looked serene, the voice that come out of it was anything but. 

“ _Hermione’s gone into premature labor. We’re headed to St. Mungo’s now._ ”

+++

A/N: So yeah, I gave Bill a Patronus, but maybe not one you expected?

Thank you so much for the reviews and recs! This is shaping up to be the first multi-chaptered fic I’ve finished in awhile -- something which is both exciting and terrifying for me -- and your comments and support have helped push me through.


	14. Desperate Times

A/N: What’s this you say? An update less than two weeks after the last one? The apocalypse must be coming…

+++

St. Mungo’s had powerful anti-Location wards around it in order to maintain patient confidentiality and safety. There was no chance Greyback could find them there -- provided they could reach the hospital in the first place; for flying was obviously not possible, not if there was a chance they were being followed, and Apparating directly into the hospital was not allowed.

That left the Floo as the only viable option, and admittedly, it was a good one. They even had Nora’s permission to open the Maris’ connection to the network. All in all, Bill should have been happy; ecstatic even. There was just one glaring problem. 

The Floo didn’t allow two people to travel together. He could only explain to Buffy how it worked, but ultimately she would have to go it alone.

If it were anyone else, there would be no reason for alarm. It was a fairly straight forward system. Buffy, however, had a tendency to bungle the pronunciation of names. Though he suspected she often did it purposefully, a slip of the tongue here could be disastrous, whether it was intentional or not. And so, when she didn’t immediately emerge from St. Mungo’s fireplace behind him, Bill’s mind assumed the worst. It had just been that kind of day. He knew he was overreacting, though, so he did nothing and simply waited some more. 

It was when the seconds stretched into minutes that he finally allowed himself to panic. 

He had just begun wracking his brain for derivatives of ‘St. Mungo’s’ when the fire within the Floo grew brighter, indicating that someone was trying to come through. 

Bill held his breath. A moment later, Buffy emerged from the fireplace, looking a bit green but none worse for wear. 

“You think you guys would be able to create some non-vomit inducing portals,” she grumbled. 

Bill exhaled, unable to restrain his relief, which earned him a curious look from Buffy. Feeling a little self-conscious, he quickly redirected her attention. 

“Come on, the lift is over here on the left.”

Though she wasn’t fooled by this, she let it go and began moving toward the lift. 

They had only made it halfway to their destination when he spotted Harry, who had apparently been waiting for them. 

Quickening his pace, Bill hurried over to his brother-in-law, with Buffy not far behind. 

“Harry! How is--”

“Not here. Too many ears,” Harry interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Follow me.”

Bill frowned but did as Harry asked. 

To his surprise, Harry bypassed the main set of lifts and instead headed for a door reserved for staff. From there, they took an immediate right turn, which brought them to yet another hallway. This one was quite long, and, unlike most others in the hospital, it didn’t have a single portrait on its walls, save one at the very end of the hall. 

Of course, that one more than made up for it, in sheer size alone.

The frame alone was enormous, an ornately gilt structure that practically ran from the floor to ceiling. It was the subject within the portrait that really stood out, however. Filling almost the entire canvas, she looked nothing short of an avenging angel. She even had the requisite sword. As they approached, she said nothing; she simply glowered down at them, as if daring them to enter unbidden. 

Bill looked up at the impressive figure in awe as he waited for Harry to say the password. Instead of uttering a word, however, Harry took a few steps back away from the portrait and whipped out his wand, pointing it right at Buffy and Bill. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Bill saw Buffy tense, ready to strike. His first instinct, too, was to take action. He had an inkling of what Harry was up to, though, so he stayed his hand, signalling for Buffy to do the same. 

The look of relief on Harry’s face was unmistakable. His wand hand never wavered, however, as he spoke. 

"Who caught you sneaking into the girls' bathroom at Hogwarts and tried to blackmail a snog out of you for their silence?" 

Bill flushed with embarrassment. "I'm going to kill my tosser of a brother for telling you that. And it’s not what it sounds like. At all," he emphasized to Buffy, who looked torn between amusement and shock. Then he sighed, knowing he had no choice but to answer. "Moaning Myrtle. And I'll thank you never to speak of this again."

Though he was satisfied by this answer, Harry didn’t lower his wand. He simply spared a somewhat pointed glance at Buffy before looking back at Bill. “You’ll know better than I what question to ask.”

Harry was right, of course. There wasn’t a doubt in Bill’s mind that it was Buffy standing next to him, but Harry had no way of knowing that. To be sure, when all was said and done, he’d rather they erred on the side of caution. First and foremost, however, he needed to explain to Buffy just what the hell was going on. Though the situation wasn’t nearly as tense as it was a moment ago, she was far from being at ease.

Turning toward her, and purposefully turning his back on Harry, Bill offered her a small smile of apology.

“There’s a potion that allows someone to assume another’s identity. Asking a question only the real person knows the answer to is a countermeasure of sorts,” he explained. 

“Okay,” she said slowly. “But ask personal, prying questions at your own risk.” 

Behind him, Bill heard Harry guffaw, but he ignored him. He concentrated on finding a question that only Buffy would know the answer to and wouldn’t result in bodily harm, as she was strongly implying.

It came to him in a bolt of inspiration. He just hoped she remembered the exchange as well as he did.

“What was our ‘first official team business’?”

The corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. “Finding the cute yet incredibly inefficient fluffball.”

At Bill’s nod of approval, Harry moved his wand away from them. Curiously, he didn’t put it away; rather he pointed it at the portrait and waved it a complex pattern in the air. 

The figure in the painting almost looked disappointed; it was with obvious reluctance that the portrait hole swung open, revealing an open lift.

Buffy, Bill, and Harry quickly entered. Once they were all inside, Harry pressed the lone button on the panel. Then, as soon as the doors closed, he cast a quick Muffliato Spell and turned toward them.

“Sorry about all that. Can't be too careful, though. To answer your question, Hermione’s fine. They’ve managed to halt the labour, so she’s just resting now. At least I hope so. She was less than pleased to find herself in the VIP wing, but it’s safer if no one knows she’s here,” he explained. Then, with a sheepish grin, he held out his hand to Buffy. “I’m Harry, by the way, Bill’s brother-in-law. You must be Buffy.” 

Buffy shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” 

Bill watched the exchange in shock. Just yesterday, Harry had made it clear that the less he knew the better as far as Buffy was concerned. Even greeting them in the lobby drastically changed his stance; Bill had just assumed there was no other option. This, however, was something else entirely. 

Wanting Buffy to have an idea of the situation they now found themselves in, he cleared his throat, getting both of their attention. 

“Harry is an Auror, a specialized position with Magical Law Enforcement,” he said, rather pointedly. 

“Oh,” Buffy said, at first not understanding what he was getting at. It sunk in a moment later, though, her eyes as wide as saucers as she glanced nervously at Harry. “OH. But, uh, hopefully brother-in-law first?”

Harry gave a ghost of a smile. “I think the time for a strict interpretation of the rules is over. Plausible deniability and all that rot wouldn’t hurt, but it’s not my most pressing concern, not anymore,” he said soberly. "Thanks for the Patronus, by the way, though I didn’t recognize it at first.” 

Bill shifted uncomfortably under Harry’s curious gaze. If he were brutally honest with himself, he knew he was lucky he had been able to summon his Patronus, considering his state of mind at the time. If not for the elation he felt at finding Buffy alive and in one piece, it probably would not have been possible. That alone was unsettling to Bill -- which meant he did not want to dwell on the fact that his Patronus had changed its form as well. 

Thankfully, he was saved by the lift doors, which opened before he could respond, revealing yet another hallway. 

This one was much shorter than the last, allowing them to make short work of it. There was no portrait at the end, either, but a small, non-descript door. That was not to say it was unprotected, however. Standing guard in front of it was a person; an Auror to be exact, one Bill recognized immediately. 

Longbottom was a far cry from Ron’s chubby classmate; even from the boy at the Battle of Hogwarts. Dressed in the Auror’s customary brown trenchcoat with his wand at the ready, he cut an impressive figure. He was also quite skilled, and he he kept a watchful eye on them all, particularly Buffy, who stood slightly behind him. 

Though he alone wouldn't deter Greyback from attacking, his presence would dissuade most others from approaching. He would also put up a hell of a fight. 

Of course, his presence begged an important question. 

"I thought the Ministry wasn't on board with all this?" Bill asked, just as they came to halt in front of Longbottom.

Harry grinned. “Oh, Neville’s not on duty.” 

Keeping his expression bland, Neville shook his head. "Not at all. I'm just here as a concerned friend. Thought I’d stretch my legs for a bit."

Bill raised his eyebrows in amusement. "In the doorway. In your Auror robes."

Neville looked down at himself, feigning surprise. "Will you look at that? I meant to change before I came here, but it must have slipped my mind."

Bill nodded in approval, and because he could see that Longbottom was still eyeing Buffy warily, stepped aside so they could be properly introduced. 

"Neville, this is Buffy. She's... my friend," he said lamely, not knowing quite how to finish that. 

He didn’t know how much Neville knew about Buffy, and he wasn’t about to be the one to spill the beans. 

Neville’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. “Er, nice to meet you," he stammered, before his Auror training snapped back into place. “Well, I suppose you’ll want to go inside. Though before I can let you by, I have to ask if you can vouch for these two, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, I can,” he said. “I verified their identities back at the lift.” 

Satisfied, Neville stepped aside and unlocked the door with another intricate wand pattern. 

Buffy made a sound of disappointment. “What? No invasive questions for you two? That’s not fair. I’m all for equal opportunity embarrassment.”

Caught off guard by this, Harry and Neville both stared at her, unsure if she was serious or not, but she gave nothing away. Deciding to interpret her comment as jest, Harry shook his head. 

“Aurors have other ways of verifying identities,” he said cryptically. He started to push the door open before he thought better of it. “Just to warn you, things are a bit tense inside. Neither Ron nor I were… overjoyed that Hermione kept her dealings with Malfoy a secret, but Ron, well, you know how he can get. He and Hermione had a spectacular row just before the contractions began. Between that and the Woolacombe business, the whole family is on edge.”

With that, Harry pushed the door open and walked through. 

Bill and Buffy followed, entering into a large, richly appointed waiting room, which had, among other fineries, indulgent-looking leather furniture and an impressive stone fireplace. On the far side of the room was a door, behind which Bill assumed was Hermione’s room. 

Though the room itself was quite large, it was filled to the brim with Weasleys, and that was even with a few notable absences. Before he could ask about why some were missing, Ginny spotted him from across the room. Her eyes narrowing, she immediately dropped what she was doing and came storming over. 

“Ah, bugger,” Harry muttered. “I forgot to warn you about Ginny.”

Bill frowned. “Warn me?” he asked, wondering what could have gotten into his sister’s bonnet that would merit a warning. 

The look Harry gave him was one of utter exasperation. Because at his core he was a decent bloke, however, he withheld any biting response he might have had and instead stepped in front of his wife in an attempt to run interference. 

“Gin, I need your help…”

“In a minute, Harry,” she said impatiently, expertly shrugging her husband off. “Nice to see you, Bill. Can we assume your self-imposed exile from the family is finally over with?”

Bill winced, physically recoiling at the hurt in his sister’s voice. He had always been close to her, so it stood to reason she would be upset with the way he had distanced himself. There were no excuses for his behavior, either; he knew that now. He wasn’t sure how to begin to apologize, though.

Unfortunately, sometimes not saying anything at all was just as bad as saying the wrong thing. At his silence, Ginny diverted her attention to Buffy. “So you’re the one who convinced my thick-headed brother to join the land of the living again?” 

Though Ginny had a smile on her face, it was anything but friendly. Then there was the tone of her voice, which he was fairly certain could freeze Fiendfyre. 

Bill had to cut this off at the pass. 

“Ginny,” he warned, pulling out all his big brother cards. 

But Ginny ignored it, whirling around to glare at him, her hands on her hips. “What? It’s nice to know at least someone can kick your arse out of its stupor, even if your own family can’t.” 

Her fury was emanating from her every pore. Bill knew there was nothing he could say at this junction that would appease her; she was simply still too hurt -- rightfully so -- so he looked to Harry for help. 

Harry nodded, and risking his own life and limb, gently grabbing his wife by the elbow to lead her away. 

Thankfully, Ginny acquiesced, though not before giving Bill and Buffy once last scathing look and proclaiming quite loudly, “What is it with him and blondes anyway? Hasn’t he learned his lesson?”

Stunned by his sister’s behavior, Bill ran a hand over his face; anything to avoid looking at Buffy.

“This isn’t about you,” he offered weakly. 

“No kidding,” she snorted. “Don’t worry, my little sister is exactly the same. Incredibly protective and yet always willing and able to smack me down at the snap of the fingers.” 

Feeling somewhat mollified by this, Bill took a deep breath as he willed away his anger and mortification. There would be time later to mend fences with Ginny and beg for forgiveness -- and to get an apology of his own. For now, they had much bigger issues to contend with.

With that, Bill turned to deal with the rest of his family; for now that the scene with Ginny was done, they had deemed it safe to come over. To his surprise, they gave him a wide berth, perhaps unsure if he wanted some space to cool down. Instead, they surrounded Buffy, who immediately gave the family members she already knew hugs of greeting -- including, Bill noted, Charlie, the gossiping wanker. For those she didn’t know, she looked to Bill to introduce her, which he did, though once again he purposefully glossed over the slayer bit. Even if Percy knew who Buffy was and was willing to overlook proper Ministry protocols for the sake of the family, it wasn’t prudent to continually remind him of that fact. 

Once that was done, he surveyed the group. “I’m assuming Ron is with Hermione. But where’s Mum and Dad?” 

George laughed, but there was no humor in it. Considering the source, it was a bit unsettling. “Mum’s in with Hermione and Ron. Presumably it’s to help, since she knows more about childbirth than the average person, but personally I think it’s to hex Ron into next Tuesday if he so much as looks at Hermione funny -- not that he doesn’t deserve it, the bloody git,” he spat. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Dad’s back at Grimmauld Place, watching all the grandkids.” 

Bill nodded. They certainly had security covered. Because of who Harry was, the wards on Grimmauld Place were immense, perhaps second only to Hogwarts itself. 

Knowing that this was as good as it was going to get for a family meeting, he called for everyone’s attention. 

“I know you’re all aware of what happened in Woolacombe. Unfortunately, it gets worse,” he said. “Just before we got word about Hermione, Buffy was attacked by Greyback and his cronies at the Devon coven."

Everyone gasped. He could see they had at least a dozen questions between them, but he looked to Buffy instead, not wanting to put words in her mouth. Understanding what he was asking, she stepped forward and explained what had happened. 

By the time she was finished, everyone was looking at her with a mixture of shock, awe, and perhaps even a little apprehension. He couldn’t blame them, particularly when she described her recovery from two Crucios as if she were merely shaking off a stubbed toe, but he still found it irritating. 

Their scrutiny clearly made Buffy uncomfortable as well; it was subtle, but Bill could see it in her body language. As quickly as he could, he brought everyone’s attention back on him. 

“We already know that Greyback is after Buffy and Hermione. At first I thought it was to kill them. After this latest attack in Devon, however, I think it’s more than that. I believe he wants to turn them, and perhaps even me as well. After all, he’s never once sent a Killing Curse my way, though he’s had ample opportunity. He’s simply tried to incapacitate,” he pointed out. Seeing the doubt on some faces, he held up his hands. “I know an argument could be made that he simply wants to indulge in a little torture before the kill, which is not out of the question by any means, but remember. Before becoming a Death Eater, his one goal in life was to create as many werewolves as possible. He’s just targeting specific individuals now. Honestly, it makes sense. We all know how unnaturally obsessed he became with Hermione during the war. As for me, I don’t flatter myself to think it’s more than a desire to finish the job.”

“What about me?” Buffy asked.

She looked as though she already knew the answer, but Bill indulged her nonetheless. 

“I believe you’re simply a case of the wrong place, wrong time. He had no way of knowing you’d show up that first night. He may not even know who you are, not fully, but you’ve definitely caught his eye, enough so that he’s changed his original plan.”

Buffy nodded, pleased by his observation. “Which we can use to our advantage,” she suggested.

“I suppose,” Bill agreed. Then he gave her a crooked smile. “Of course, after this last encounter, he may be having second thoughts.” 

Buffy grinned. “Maybe. He’ll still want to do something, though. No matter what, though, he has totally bitten off more than he can chew.”

+++

It started with the sound of giddy laughter, followed by the pitter patter of little feet. Bill tried to ignore it, but the sound only got louder and louder, until little Fred and Roxanne burst into the sitting room, with George bringing up the rear.

“Sorry, mate,” George apologized a bit breathlessly as the kids began to play on the floor. 

“No worries,” Bill replied, a faint smile on his lips as he watched his niece and nephew cajole their father into joining them on the floor to play. 

He was envious of George, of all his siblings. Aside from Charlie, who was a bachelor by design, they all had families. He, the oldest and the first to get married, had nothing and never would. 

Repressing a sigh, Bill turned back to the papers before him. After the initial meeting in St. Mungo’s, his family had split into two groups. While one kept watch in the waiting room, the other retired to Grimmauld Place for some rest, a trip made easy by the secure Floo connection linking the waiting room to the patient’s destination of choice; one of the perks of being a VIP. After taking the first shift, Bill, Buffy, and the rest of their group were now on their break.

Bill, of course, had no intentions of resting or relaxing. As the others gathered in the kitchen to grab a bite to eat, he had come into the sitting room to review his notes. Roxanne had other ideas, however. 

Having noticed him watching them play, she wobbled her way over to him with a determination only toddlers could have. When she finally reached his side, she was delighted with her achievement that she began to bounce up and down. At the same time, perhaps in an effort to get his attention, she began to blow raspberries. Loudly. 

Unable to resist, Bill put his papers down and swooped her up, her squeals of joy soon filling the room. Not one to be left out, little Fred was by his side an instant later. 

Before Bill knew what was happening, he was on the floor, at the mercy of his niece and nephew, playing whatever game they desired until George took pity on him and declared it bedtime for the children. 

Utterly exhausted, Bill lay back on the floor as George and the kids departed, ignoring George parting ‘old man’ jab. He certainly moved quickly enough when another shadow crossed the doorway, not one minute later. 

“You’re good with kids,” Buffy noted, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she looked down at him.

Bill demurred. “More like they’re good with me.” 

“Please,” she scoffed. “You’ll make an awesome dad one day.”

As soon as the words were out, she froze, and an awkward tension filled the room. She had meant it as a compliment, but they both knew she had just touched upon a very sensitive subject. 

Bill tried to play it off as best he could, but even he could hear the tightness in his voice. 

“Perhaps,” he replied. “For now I’ll settle with keeping my family in the here and now safe.” 

“Fair enough,” she quickly agreed. Instead taking the opportunity to walk away from her blunder like a normal person would, she did the exact opposite, fairly flouncing into room and plopped down onto the sofa. “So your family’s been giving me the lowdown on the kinds of nasty spells Greyback may throw at us, and can I just say, you guys are super scary.”

“This from a vampire slayer?” he retorted as he joined her on the sofa. 

She nodded. “Absolutely. It’s the attention to detail in your curses that really does it. Seriously, you guys obviously have way too much time on your hands if you can think some of that stuff up. And how many spells do you need to blow stuff up anyway? ” 

Despite himself, Bill laughed, breaking whatever awkwardness remained between them. From there, it was easy to fall into a normal conversation -- or at least, normal for them. As they began to talk in earnest about their next steps, however, the tension began to ratchet up once again. 

Setting up a trap was all well and good, but they didn’t have a bloody clue how to find Greyback in the first place. Even worse, if they were too obvious about it, or Greyback thought for one second that the entire Weasley clan was breathing down his neck, he would simply go to ground and bide his time until the next opportunity arose. 

It weighed on Bill’s mind all night, causing him to toss and turn in his bed as he went over every last detail of the past few weeks, desperate to find a solution.

Perhaps it was this meticulous analysis, or perhaps he was just delirious from sleep deprivation, but as the clock struck four, he finally realized what he had to do. From there, it was easy to concoct a plan, however crazy it seemed. 

And Merlin, did it seem crazy. His family would almost certainly be against it. He didn’t have time for arguments, though; the full moon was almost upon them. In fact, he didn’t want to involve them at all. If they did have a hand in this, they would be endangering their families, their jobs, and their reputations. 

The answer was simple. He would have to go it alone. He wouldn’t even be able to have Buffy by his side, not for this part. The risk was too great. 

As quietly as he could, Bill crept downstairs, taking extra care as he passed by Buffy’s bedroom. From there, it was easy to get to the front door, which he left open for fear that closing it would make too much noise, knowing that the wards would prevent any unwelcome guest from entering. 

Once he was on the front step of Grimmauld Place, Bill took a deep breath and prepared to Apparate. 

“I thought you’d try something like this. Can I just say that I’m insulted you would leave without me?” 

Caught red-handed, Bill had no choice but to turn and face Buffy, who was standing just inside the door frame. 

They regarded each other for a long moment, each weighing their next move. For Bill, he knew the jig was up; for though he could probably Apparate before she could reach him, there was also a chance she would grab him and end up Splinched. He wouldn’t put it past her to try something like that, either, despite the risk. She was tenacious, like a Goblin with a piece of gold, and at that exact moment, she was also spitting mad. 

“For the record, I wasn’t planning on going after Greyback without you,” he said, which seemed to appease her ever so slightly. “I do have an idea of how to find him, however, one that would put my family at risk if they’re involved.”

“They don’t strike me as the wilting flower types. Plus, there’s the whole strength in numbers thing.”

“That’s true,” he conceded. “Though you don’t seem to need your friends.”

“Nope,” she replied, completely unfazed by his point. 

Bill decided to try a different tack. “They’re also needed to protect Hermione,” he said. Then, knowing honesty was always best, particularly when Buffy was involved, he added, “I don’t have time to win their approval, either.”

“And a big ‘amen’ to that,” she agreed. “So, where are we going?”

Bill eyed her warily. “You’re not going to try to talk me out of this? Or worse?”

Buffy shrugged. “You made good points. Besides, I can’t really stop you, unless I try to knock you out or something, and even I can only hit you so many times before I start to feel guilty. Though I’m really tempted to make an exception here because, you know, of the abandonment.” 

Bill sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you to come with me. I need to go to Shell Cottage first, and I can certainly take you there. After that, though, I plan to go to the Ministry, and I don’t think I can get you in there without detection,” he admitted. 

“I may able to help with that.”

Buffy and Bill spun around to see Harry standing in the doorway of the study, obviously having overheard everything.

He gave them a lopsided grin as he tucked his Invisibility Cloak under his arm. “Shall we go then?”

+++


	15. Desperate Measures

+++

When Buffy had first learned about the Ministry of Magic, she pictured something similar to the Watcher’s Council; stately and old and most importantly on the modest size, especially once she learned it was located smack in the middle of London. It wasn’t until she stepped out of the visitor phone booth that she realized how wrong she had been.

The place wasn’t just huge; it was downright cavernous.

It was also incredibly pretentious. Even through the material of the Invisibility Cloak, under which she was hiding, she could tell, from the high vaulted ceilings with elaborate flourishes etched into every inch right down to the endless expanse of marble floor. She couldn’t begin to explain the tacky gold fountain or the officious looking robes everyone was wearing -- including Bill and Harry. What really surprised her, though, was the sheer number of people. 

Even though they had arrived first thing in the morning before rush hour got into full swing, there were still dozens of people bustling around. It was an effort on Buffy’s part not to bump into anyone and give away her position as they crossed the atrium.

Clearly, she had underestimated the Ministry, and that didn’t sit well. She was already uncomfortable with the magic itself; as helpful as it could be, there was an equal amount of risk, and in her case, Murphy’s Law seemed to apply tenfold. Attaching it to a bureaucracy was one of her worst nightmares come true.   
Unfortunately, dealing with them was unavoidable. There was no putting the jack back in its proverbial box for her. Even if it were possible, there were now dozens of slayers running around. The chances the two worlds wouldn’t collide were slim to none -- which meant sneaking into the heart of the Ministry probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. 

From what she had gleaned from Bill and Hermione, the bridge building between the two groups wasn’t going to be all wine and roses begin with. But getting caught on their turf… well, it wouldn’t exactly endear her to them, would it? And yet here she was, waltzing through the atrium, hiding under nothing but a thin piece of cloth draped over her like she was playing ghost with her mom’s sheets. It didn’t matter that Bill and Harry had assured her that she was undetectable under the cloak, that Hermione's assistant had been temporarily reassigned during her lengthy maternity leave, that her department on the whole didn't open for another hour with just a skeleton crew in place now, that even if someone were there, their excuse would hold up; there were still a million ways this could go sideways -- beginning with the security checkpoint.

Buffy felt her stride falter ever so slightly as she neared the line of guards, who were waving their wands over everyone, suddenly overcome with doubt. Before she could second guess herself too much, however, Bill was at her side.

Though he kept his gaze in front of him, there was definitely a look of challenge on his face, like he was daring her to chicken out. He immediately followed it up with an ever so slight yet unmistakable nudge, just in case there was any chance she misunderstood his meaning.

It was just what Buffy needed. There was no way she was backing out, not after she had read him the riot act when he had tried to leave her behind, and especially not now when she finally she understood why he had done it.

Her head held high, she stalked toward the security guards with renewed determination -- though not before sticking her tongue out at Bill as she passed by. She knew he couldn’t see it, but she didn’t care. By the smirk on his face, she got the feeling he knew anyway. 

To her surprise, Harry witnessed the entire exchange, or at least Bill’s half of it. Though he clearly had questions, he didn’t say anything; he couldn’t, not without risking others overhearing. He simply gave Bill one last curious look before turning his attention to the guards, a friendly smile plastered on his face as he approached the closest one.

The wizard snapped to attention when he saw Harry draw near, the calm, cool security guard demeanor replaced by what could only be described as fangirling. 

Harry was some kind of bigwig. 

If Buffy hadn’t witnessed it with her own eyes, she never would have believed it. He was so mild-mannered and unassuming and… young. But she couldn’t deny the way the guard was practically shaking with excitement as he shook Harry’s hand, or the way his coworkers looked at him in envy. She wasn’t going to complain, either. The commotion around Harry made it easy for her to slip by. The only real problem was that the overzealous guard wasn’t content with just a handshake; he wanted a sit down conversation.

To Harry’s credit, he indulged the guy for a minute to before managing to extricate himself, albeit a bit awkwardly.

“You’d think by now they’d be used to seeing me,” he muttered as he made his way over to Bill and Buffy, his face red with embarrassment. Then he shook it off, pushing his glasses up his nose as he became all-business, though the faint red tinge to his cheeks remained. “I need to make a stop first. I'll meet you in Hermione’s office to help collect some of her belongings."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and left. Bill watched his retreating back for a moment before he turned in the opposite direction, heading toward a long hallway on the right, at the end of which stood the elevators. And in between were dozens and dozens of people, caught in an insane bottleneck as they waited in line.

“Stay close,” Bill murmured before diving into the fray.

Really not an issue, Buffy thought as she eyed the crowd around her. 

Sure enough, less than ten steps later, she found herself plastered against Bill’s backside to keep from accidentally bumping into someone.

It was uncomfortable to say the least, invading his personal space in such a weird and awkward way. Luckily, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She had other things to worry about -- like how she was going to cram into the elevator with a dozen other people when she could barely make it down the hallway. 

Her only consolation was that Bill didn’t seem overly concerned, his stride unwavering. As they got closer and closer to the elevator and she began to pick up snippets of conversation around them, she realized why. 

_“Is that Bill Weasley?”_

_“Merlin, would you look at his face!”_

_“Henrietta, dear, don’t get too close…”_

_“… heard his wife left him when she realized she could have an actual_ litter _of children…”_

_“I’d still take him for a tumble, even with those scars. I bet he’s positively an animal in bed.”_

_“… used to be so handsome…”_

_“Do you think the Ministry is finally forcing him to register?”_

Buffy felt her cheeks burn with anger. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. There was no way Bill hadn’t heard every word; the stiff set of his shoulders confirmed it.

Impulsively, she reached forward and grabbed his hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. She was pleasantly surprised to feel him squeeze back before he squared his shoulders and continued on as if he didn’t have a care in the world, obviously deciding to take the higher road. 

Buffy wasn’t quite as forgiving. She made a point to trip one the gossiping hobags as she passed by. She knew it was risky, but it was worth it, especially once they reached the elevators, for it was then that she realized why Bill hadn’t been worried about the elevators, despite the obvious crowd.

Everyone gave him a wide berth, as if they could catch lycanthropy just by sharing common space. When it came time for Buffy and Bill to get on the elevator, they practically strolled on, with only a few brave souls daring to join them.

It had to be one of the longest elevator rides ever. 

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached their stop, particularly when no one else on the elevator moved. She practically did the dance of joy when she stepped into the hallway and saw it was empty. 

“Her office is at the end of the corridor, the door on the left,” Bill murmured as he began walking in that direction, purposefully keeping his pace casual to avoid drawing attention. 

As much as Buffy wanted to sprint to Hermione’s office and rip off what was becoming a incredibly stifling cloak, she followed his lead. It was a good thing she did, too. No sooner had they passed by the very first door that it swung open.

“Bill! Is zat really you?”

Buffy heard Bill swear violently under his breath before he turned around, his face white as a sheet. Almost with a sense of dread, Buffy also turned toward the silvery, almost musical and clearly French voice. 

Her jaw hit the floor when she saw the most drop dead gorgeous woman in the world step out from a door emblazoned "Magical Beings Division" and start to approach them. Seriously, she was like a supermodel; tall with long white blonde hair, big blue eyes, and skin Buffy would’ve given her eyeteeth for -- and that was just above the neck. 

Buffy had always been confident in her own looks, but next to this woman, she felt like the ugly duckling’s homely stepsister.

She was Bill’s ex. She had to be. It was the only way to explain both Bill’s reaction to her and the tentative yet tender way the woman was gazing at him.

Buffy frantically looked around, trying to find somewhere else she could be, but she trapped. She couldn’t risk the sound of footsteps, and she definitely couldn’t open and close any door. Feeling more awkward than she thought humanly possible, she could only stand there as the woman closed the distance between them. 

As bad as it was for her, though, Bill had it ten times worse. There was a look of actual pain on his face as he glanced over to where Buffy was standing before looking back at his ex, who had just about closed the distance between them.

“Fleur, what are you doing here? I thought you were still in France,” he said stiffly. 

Fleur smiled as she finally came to a stop in front of him -- leaving barely any room for the holy spirit, Buffy snarkily noted -- and reached for him. It looked like she was going in for an embrace, but Bill sidestepped and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before moving back away from her. 

There was a flash of disappointment across Fleur’s beautiful face, which sadly didn’t make her any less beautiful. “I am moving back and ‘ad some paperwork to attend to. I ‘ave missed it ‘ere. I ‘ave missed many things,” she said softly. 

Surprise briefly flared in Bill’s eyes before he shrugged. “Yes, well I’m sure it's just another passing fancy." 

Fleur drew herself up, obviously stung by his offhanded comment. “I see you ‘ave not changed.” 

“No, Fleur, I haven’t. Nothing about me has changed since you last saw me,” he replied meaningfully. 

That took the wind out of her sails, and she visibly wilted. “Bill, I am sorry. I said things that I should not ‘ave said.” 

“Why not? They were true.” 

Fleur sighed. “Not everything. I must go, but perhaps we could meet again, yes?”

“Perhaps,” Bill said noncommittally. Then, because he was ultimately a good guy, he relented, adding sincerely if not enthusiastically, “It was good to see you, Fleur.”

Fleur frowned, somehow managing to do so without a single wrinkle marring her face. “It was good to see you, too.”

Bill gave a curt nod and walked away. 

Fleur stared after him for a moment, apparently at a loss, before letting out a delicate sigh.

"I was wrong. You _'ave_ changed," she murmured softly.

Then with one last look at Bill, she stepped back into the Beings Division, leaving Buffy alone in the hallway. 

Buffy waited until the door clicked shut behind Fleur. As soon as it did, she hurried after Bill, though she knew she wouldn’t catch up with him; she was getting a late start and he was trucking along at supersonic speeds. The only reason she could still see him was because the hallway itself was a lot longer than it looked. Even so, he disappeared a moment later when he finally reached the door at the end. 

Under any other circumstances, she’d be a little peeved. At that very moment, however, she couldn’t blame him. If she were in his shoes, she wouldn’t want to be around anyone right now, especially her; she’d be too busy dying of embarrassment. A few extra minutes to clear his head wasn’t a bad thing. 

Besides, she knew where she was going -- even if the hallway was a lot longer than it looked. Or if, past a certain point, there weren’t any more doors except for Hermione’s at the end, just walls, giving Buffy the distinct impression that she was heading toward the   
Siberia of work space. 

Maybe ‘corner office’ meant something different in wizard-speak; not that she was complaining. 

When Harry and Bill had told her that they chances of them being interrupted were low because Hermione’s office was tucked away from everyone else, she hadn’t been convinced. Now, however, she understood why they had such incredible faith in part of the plan; every step she took chipped away at her own doubt. By the time she finally reached the door, she was feeling pretty good.

Her mood only improved when she stepped inside; as soon as she shut the door, she pulled off the cloak, blissfully breathing in the fresh air.

Bill was already on the other side of the room, waving his wand over a door that presumably led to Hermione’s office – which made the room she was standing in the assistant’s office. 

‘Glorified closet’ was more like it, Buffy thought as she viewed the cramped space.

Before she could make any more observations, Bill called out to her over his shoulder. 

“We’re in luck. It’s just as I suspected. Her door isn’t warded, which means it’s only her files we have to contend with.” 

With that, he strode into Hermione’s office.

By the time she crossed into the room – in the whole two seconds it took her -- Bill was already standing in front of a set of file cabinets, his back still firmly facing her. Taking the hint, she let him be and instead took a look around. 

Though this office was a little bigger than the first, it wasn’t by much. Still, it was pretty swanky, decorated with heavy wooden desk and matching chairs, a large throw rug, and antique-looking lamps. And then there were the books, ancient-looking tomes that stretched from floor to ceiling all around the entire room in impressive oak bookshelves. 

Between the office location and space itself, she was definitely getting mixed messages here.

“Is this office a reward or a punishment?” 

She had meant it more as a rhetorical question than anything else, knowing that Bill wanted some alone time, so she was surprised when he replied, a wry if slightly strained smile on his face as he looked at her.

“A bit of both actually. Though Hermione is widely regarded as a brilliant war hero, she also has a reputation of resembling a Blast-Ended Skrewt when she’s disrupted too often,” he explained. Then he turned his attention back to the cabinets.

When he took out his wand a second later, Buffy stopped sightseeing and watched him avidly, curious to see what he was going to do.

In her position in the Ministry, Hermione had access to a werewolf registry list, complete with photos, a ton of personal information, and last known residences. Now that they knew Greyback wasn’t working alone, they could potentially use that information to ID the others and possibly more -- they just had to break through Hermione’s wards to get to it. 

Even though Bill and Harry hadn’t discussed this part of the plan too explicitly -- just the opposite in fact, as Bill was adamant that Harry have no hand in this specific task and only talked about it in terms so cryptic, he would have made the PTB proud -- Harry had made it clear that this was no small task. 

By the look of concentration on Bill’s face, he agreed; though interestingly, he didn’t seem as worried as Harry had been. There was no hesitation or concern; he simply rolled his sleeves up and dove right in.

She had heard Andrew wax poetic about slayers in the heat of battle, their graceful dance of death and all that jazz. It always made her roll her eyes, but watching Bill now, as he became a blur of sweeping arm movements, smaller flourishes and postures, and occasional sparkage from his wand, she finally understood. 

He was obviously a master of his art, something Buffy hadn’t truly appreciated until that very moment. 

Fascinated, she watched him work for a solid fifteen minutes until he finally stopped, giving her a sheepish grin as he wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead. 

“I managed to get through the first layer,” he explained. 

Buffy felt her eyebrows hit her hairline. “The _first_ layer? So Harry wasn’t being melodramatic?”

Bill smirked. “No, he was. It comes with being best friends with the brightest witch of her age. In all fairness, though, I am a Cursebreaker with an inside line,” he confessed. At Buffy’s curious look, he elaborated. “Hermione has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Over the years, we’ve had numerous conversations about the nature of curses and protective magic, including our own preferences and tendencies.” 

With one last smile, he turned back to continue his work. Just as he started to get back into the swing of things, however, there was a voice in the outside office. 

Harry was back, and from the sound of it, he would be in the room with them at any moment.

Bill’s good mood instantly evaporated, his smile fading as a glower began to take its place. Before it had a chance to set up camp, Buffy stepped in, fully sympathizing with his need to keep his family as safe and uninvolved as possible.

“I’ll go out there and run interference,” she promised. “Just… be careful.”

Bill’s face cleared and he gave her an appreciative nod. 

Buffy smiled in response; then she went to head Harry off. As it turned out, she was just in time. Harry looked ready to charge in. When she appeared in the doorway, however, he stopped. 

“Everything okay in there?” he asked. 

Buffy nodded. “Bill’s still getting her stuff together,” she explained. 

Harry frowned. “He’s being rather ridiculous, don’t you think? This alone is enough to get me into hot water,” he said, holding up a robe in one hand and what looked like a golden metal detector in the other. 

Buffy bristled, snatching the robe from him more abruptly than she intended. “Hey, if I were him, I’d do the same. Besides, as I understand it, _this_ ,” she said, pointing to the gold thing. “Is part of your job.” 

Harry blinked, a weird gleam in his eye as he absorbed her words. “More or less,” he said slowly.

Not liking the way he was looking at her, Buffy focused on putting the robe on instead. Once she had it fastened, she took a good look at herself. 

She felt a little Judge Judy-ish, and the robe did absolutely nothing for her figure, but it would do the job. She was just glad Harry found one that was her height. 

Harry shared her approval. “Excellent. Now we just need to get this wrapped.”

He walked over the desk, and with a swish of his wand, transformed a file folder sitting on top of it into a non-descript bankers box. Then with another swish, he shrunk the detector down and put it inside, making sure the saucer pointing in the direction of the door before he sealed it shut. 

“Crazy,” Buffy muttered. “So now I sit here and wait for our guest star, right?”

Harry nodded. “You seem to be taking all this in stride.”

Buffy shrugged as she plopped down into the chair behind the desk. “I’m not exactly a stranger to the weird.”

“True,” he conceded. “This is probably more than you bargained for, though.”

She could hear the double meaning to his words. Sadly, she was never really any good at that kind of thing, so she purposefully took his words face value.

“I guess,” she said. “But I’m going to see this to the end anyway.”

Harry flushed, but he didn’t back down. “All of it?” he countered, glancing toward the door to Hermione’s office. When she started to squirm uncomfortably in the chair, he finally relented. “Right then. Let’s get you set up. Remember, when he comes in, just smile but don't speak. Your accent is a dead giveaway that something is up. All we need is for him to step inside the office. Hopefully seeing this box will encourage him in thinking he’s getting his belongings back. If he catches sight of Bill or myself, he’ll be gone before he even steps through the door. And whatever you do, don’t let him know that you’re a Muggle -- er, without magic.”

Buffy nodded. “Got it. Smiling good, talking bad. Decoy Buffy is ready for duty.” 

Harry looked amused, but before he could comment, Bill emerged from Hermione's office, a victorious look on his face. 

"All set in here, Harry."

Harry blinked in surprise. “Already? And without a single hex? I’m impressed.” 

“Your faith in my abilities is astounding. Just because Hermione could run circles round you and Ron doesn’t mean the same applies to me,” Bill said dryly. 

Harry ignored this jab and clapped his hands together. "Well, we'd best go back into Hermione's office and wait, Bill. It’s almost the appointed time... if he shows at all."

"He will," Bill said confidently. “His arrogance alone will demand it -- if he thinks there’s a chance at all that Hermione would retrieve his precious heirlooms and leave them here for him, that is. It’s the beauty of having him come here. Not only does it seem less like a trap, but with his magic still restricted, there’s also little risk to us. Sending the letter through Ministry owl was just a brilliant touch, though. Thank you for that.”

Harry still looked skeptical. “I hope you’re right. This may be our only chance at finding out if Hermione’s hunch was correct.”

Bill nodded. Then he looked at Buffy. “You sure you’ll be okay out here?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly doing covert ops here,” she replied, shooing them away. 

A moment later, she was all alone. Thinking that it would look weird if she were sitting there twiddling her thumbs, she looked for something to do. Her only real option was the quill and ink. While she managed not to break/spill anything, the ratio of ink to quill was still beyond her. Her paper was beginning to resemble a really disturbing Rorschach test when the door opened. 

Buffy held her breath. Still, she continued to scribble on the paper, watching him only out of the corner of her eye as he walked in. 

The guy was striking. There was no doubt about that. His white blonde hair and silver eyes alone made him stand out from the crowd. It was his whole air about him that really got her attention, though. 

He practically oozed money and arrogance, striding into the office like he owned the place. And even though they hadn’t given him much warning in the letter -- a purposeful move to gauge his reaction and to get this done before the rest of the department showed up for work -- he didn’t have a single well-groomed hair out of place; nor was there a single wrinkle on his expensive robes. 

Really, the only thing marring his whole look was the expression on his face. Though he was probably going for something along the lines of haughty with that sneer of his, it made him look like he was in a permanent state of constipation.

Then it again, it may have been an act, because underneath the cool facade, she detected a hint of anxiety. And although his pose was relaxed, with one hand slung casually inside his pocket, she knew that he probably was holding his wand. 

When he saw her sitting at the desk, he stopped short, just a few steps inside the doorway.   
His eyes quickly flitted around the room, too, lingering briefly on the package next to her on the desk, before he turned his gaze back to her.

Buffy schooled her expression blank, offering up a saccharine smile. Inside, however, she was grinning.

It was time to see what this Draco Malfoy really knew.

+++

A/N: This chapter is for the reviewer who requested that certain Veela make an appearance. :) Also, sorry for the delay, but RL decided to take center stage for awhile. Hopefully, I haven’t lost everyone’s interest! 


	16. A Fishing Expedition

A/N: Sorry for yet another delay in updates! I had to have eye surgery, and I haven’t been able to see much during the recovery -- let alone sit in front of a computer screen. I’m still limited in screen time, but I promise I’m plugging away at this story when I can. 

Thank you so much for the comments and kudos so far! I’m thrilled beyond words that people are still reading this. :)

+++

“You’re not Granger’s assistant.”

Bill froze at Malfoy’s words. He had underestimated the git. He never imagined Malfoy would bother to remember someone as lowly as an assistant, particularly since his interactions with said assistant would have been remarkably low, Hermione having only recently moved into this position.

It was annoying, to say the least. It also created a problem.

Bill had heard Harry tell Buffy not to speak. At the time, it was the right call. Now, however, it left Buffy in a bind. Not answering would almost be as deadly as saying something. Even from his vantage point behind Hermione’s open office door under the Invisibility Cloak, he could see that; the way Malfoy was lingering in the doorway, looking like he was one nervous twitch away from hexing Buffy into next Tuesday.

“Do you think perhaps she could put on a British accent, even for just a word or two?” Harry whispered. 

Bill grimaced as he thought of the way she butchered the English language beyond all recognition every time she spoke. It seemed too much to hope that she could muster a passable accent. On the other hand, he had made the mistake of underestimating Buffy before, and if there was one thing he knew about her, it was that she could take care of herself. 

This time proved to be no exception. Without the slightest hint of nervousness or the smallest flinch of panic, Buffy looked up at Malfoy in confusion and uttered perhaps the only word she could without raising the alarm.

“Hm?”

Unfortunately, Malfoy wasn’t fooled. He immediately stepped toward her as he began to take his hand out of his pocket, presumably holding his wand. 

Bill was moving before it even registered, stepping out from under the cloak and into the office with his wand extended. 

"I wouldn't if I were you, Malfoy." 

To Bill’s great satisfaction, the other man froze, giving him the time to cross the room and stand next to Buffy, who was already on her feet. At the same time, he heard Harry move behind him; he, however, made no move toward the desk where Bill and Buffy stood, choosing to stay closer to the doorway to split Malfoy’s targets. 

Malfoy’s face twisted into a look of complete disgust. "Potter and a token Weasley. Of course. I’m only shocked you didn’t jump out of the closet or some melodramatic shite like that,” he sneered. “To what do I owe this displeasure?” 

“We just want to talk,” Harry said, gesturing to a visitor’s chair wedged in the corner of the small office.

“Oh, yes, let’s,” Draco drawled, making no motion to sit down. “Whatever shall we talk about, though? Perhaps how Granger’s ‘request’ for my books wasn’t entirely on the up and up? Or perhaps this nice little piece of forgery I have in my pocket here, requesting my presence here under false pretences?”

Bill stiffened. The smarmy bastard didn’t miss much, did he? It also confirmed his worst suspicions. Malfoy obviously wasn’t above a little blackmail… or worse.

The time to mince words was over. 

“Why don’t you tell us what you know about Greyback?”

“Aside from the fact that he’s dead?” Malfoy smoothly replied, giving nothing away with the bored expression on his face.

He couldn’t ignore the strange buzzing noise that began emanating from the package on the desk, however. Nor could he disguise the way the blood drained from his face when Bill reached over and opened the box, laying the secrecy sensor bare for all to see. 

Without a word, Malfoy turned on his heel and started for the door. Before he made it two steps, however, Harry waved his wand, slamming the door the shut.

Enraged, Malfoy turned toward them, the mask of indifference gone. “You can’t keep me here. I haven’t done anything wrong, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t help the likes of Greyback.”

Silence followed his tirade -- complete silence. The secrecy sensor lay dormant, not uttering so much as a single twitch or whir. 

Bill had not been expecting that; nor had Harry, if the stunned look on his face was anything to go by. 

In some ways, it was an unfortunate development. For while Bill had no doubt Harry would do whatever it took to protect his family, he was also an honourable man, one dedicated to his job and what it stood for. If the sensor indicated that Malfoy was not conspiring with Greyback, as it just did, there was a chance Harry would feel duty-bound to tread carefully, particularly since they were already operating on extremely shaky ground. 

It was for precisely this reason that Bill had been reluctant to involve Harry in the first place, for it meant that he would either have to defer to Harry’s authority as Auror, even if it meant going easy on Malfoy despite the fact he obviously knew _something_ , or openly defy. There simply was no middle ground. 

Thankfully, before he could figure out where Harry stood, Buffy stepped in, not bound by -- or probably even aware of -- the potential constraints.

“You may not be helping him, but you know more than you’re telling.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “A Yank?” he asked. Completely dismissing her, he pointedly looked at Bill and his close proximity to her. “We’re slumming it a bit, aren’t we? Though I suppose I would, too, if my Veela wife left me.”

Bill felt his face flush a deep, angry red, both at Malfoy’s insult and the way it reminded him of his humiliating encounter with Fleur in the hallway. Before he could respond, however, Buffy put a hand on his arm in a calming gesture as she took a step forward -- effectively positioning herself so that she was closer to Malfoy.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, either. 

The blond arsehole took it all in with a smirk. “You must feel right at home with the Weasels. They like their women insufferable and domineering.” 

Though Bill felt his anger stir once again, Buffy simply shrugged it off, completely nonplussed. “Maybe because they’re not sexist, insecure asshats?” she suggested. “But enough deflection. I mean, seriously, you know you’re not leaving until you talk, right?”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes as he appraised her in earnest. He was obviously unhappy he was unable to get a read on her and push her buttons like he could Bill and Harry. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep trying. 

“Bold words for a witch without a wand, especially since, if you hadn’t noticed, your bodyguards are pretty pathetic,” he pointed out, his lips curling up an exaggerated sneer as he spoke. 

Buffy was unperturbed. “ _My_ bodyguards?” she questioned. “Are you sure it’s not the other way around, mini-Spike?”

Though his forehead creased in confusion at this name, he quickly recovered, making a big show of looking her up and down. “I assure you, nothing on me is mini, especially my ‘spike’.”

“Says every guy ever,” she replied dryly. “You and I both know that arrogance alone won’t help you when Greyback comes for you.”

If Bill hadn’t been staring at Malfoy so intently -- ready to rip his throat out at the next untoward comment -- he would’ve missed it. Then again, perhaps it had been there all along; Bill had just been too steeped in his own prejudices and assumptions to see it. It took Buffy with her unflappable tenacity and dead on instincts to reveal the truth. 

Behind his arrogant facade and sharp insults, Malfoy was scared. Not of them, but of Greyback.

Bill was gobsmacked by the revelation; Harry, too. 

Buffy unapologetically took advantage of their silence and forged ahead.

“Now see, what I don’t get is, if you’re not working with him and you don’t like the guy, then why be stingy with the info?” she asked. “We want to stop him, so helping us will only be of the good for you.” 

Malfoy snorted. “Except that the Ministry isn’t in the habit of helping the children of Death Eaters, even from Greyback.”

“That’s not true,” Harry protested, immediately taking offense at the implication. 

“I think Theo Nott and Greg Goyle would disagree with you there,” Malfoy shot back. 

As soon as the words were out, he looked as though regretted them. When he saw Harry’s look of confusion, however, he was consumed with disgust and simply strode over to the door, daring them to stop him. 

Bill and Harry exchanged glances. Neither had a clue what he was talking about -- and they might never if he walked out the door.

“You came here for items that will help ward against werewolves, which means you know he’s out there,” Harry called out, taking a gamble with Hermione’s theory, which suddenly didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore. “If you help us, we will protect you and your family from him.”

Without even bothering to look back at them, Malfoy scoffed. “Please. I can protect my mother and myself far better than you ever could.”

Bill had to admit, he had a point; though Malfoy himself had his magic restricted, the Manor was steeped in ancient, ancestral wards and protections spells. It would take quite a bit of skill to break through its fortifications. Add to that Malfoy’s obvious mistrust of the Ministry, and Bill knew that they would not win his cooperation this way. 

Harry quickly came to the same realization and tried a different tack.

“If you help us, you’ll be a hero. I’ll make sure the whole Wizarding World knows it.”

Malfoy paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob, before he turned toward them. “I prefer being alive,” he coolly replied. Then he looked at Bill. “And in one piece.”

Bill exploded in anger. “You fucking coward,” he snarled. 

He started toward Malfoy; to do what, he didn’t know. He never found out, because Buffy beat him there, her back towards the blond git as she held her arms out in a protective gesture. 

Malfoy sneered at her. “How precious, calling off your dog again.” 

Faster than he could blink, Buffy whirled around. “Not quite,” she replied chirpily. Then she drew back her fist and knocked him out cold.

Malfoy dropped like a stone.

With a satisfied smile, Buffy turned around toward Bill and Harry. “So how do we get him to cooperate, aside from beating him to a pulp? Though I’ll just put it out there that I’m totally okay with that.”

Harry’s eyebrows drew downward as he studied his former nemesis. “I’m not sure,” he murmured. “I could try appealing to Kingsley--”

“Do you think he’d listen? Even if he does, are you sure we have enough information? The Ministry has been abundantly clear on its position regarding Greyback. Kingsley might not want to make waves with more solid proof,” Bill interrupted. Seeing Buffy’s confusion, he explained, “Kingsley is the Minister of Magic.”

Buffy bit her lip, clearly not crazy about the idea. “Uh, I did mention that I have trouble with authority figures, right?”

Harry gave her a crooked smile. “I assure you, you’re in good company. And no, I’m not entirely sure I’d be well received all things considered, even if Kingsley himself would be willing to grant us some leeway,” he admitted.

Bill breathed a sigh of relief. Though having Harry’s support changed things a bit, he was still leery of involving the upper echelons of the Ministry. The bureaucracy alone could bring their involvement to a dead stop, and that wasn’t even taking Buffy’s presence into consideration. 

Of course, that brought them right back to square one. 

They all fell silent as they tried to think of how to get to Malfoy. When the solution did not readily present itself, Bill began to pace back and forth, still wound up from it all.

It was Harry who finally broke the silence. 

“I have an idea,” he said slowly. “I’ll need to retrieve some things from my office, though. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

With that, he left. 

At first, Buffy let Bill be, content to watch him pace. As the minutes ticked by and he showed no sign of stopping, however, she finally spoke up. 

“You okay?” she asked cautiously. 

“Couldn’t be better,” Bill tersely replied.

She made a sound that indicated she didn’t believe him. Another handful of minutes passed before she made another attempt to talk, however. 

“Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want advice from, but you’re obviously angry, understandably so. It's been a sucky day by anyone's standards,” she said. “Just remember, it should be a weapon, not a weakness.”

Bill nodded, but it was more in dismissal than acceptance. After a few more minutes of pacing, however, he realized that he was being an arse. 

Shoulders slumping, he turned toward her and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just--” 

Buffy shook her head. “No apologies necessary. This guy’s a real piece of work, though you guys make it way too easy for him,” she said, gesturing toward Malfoy. “Out of curiosity, what your interrogation plan was before Harry and I signed on?”

Bill bared his teeth in a grin. “I hadn’t worked out all the details, but suffice to say you would have found it more enjoyable.”

Buffy sighed in appreciation. “We could always lock Harry out for a few minutes,” she suggested, a sly look in her eye as she glanced at the door. 

Before Bill could figure out if she was serious, Harry returned, out of breath and carrying a few items in his hands, one of which he held out for them to see. 

“An Auror’s informant agreement,” he declared. “Tailored specifically for this situation.”

Bill scanned the document, his eyebrows raising at the terms stipulated within. While it might just be enough to appeal to Malfoy’s selfish nature, it asked quite a bit -- from both parties.

“Will the Ministry honor this?” he asked. “It goes well beyond the usual arrangement.”

“They’ll have to. It’s a binding contract. If Malfoy helps us flush out Greyback, and I mean truly helps us, they’ll have no choice,” Harry replied. “They won’t be happy with me, but they won’t do anything too severe, not if they have Greyback to show for it.”

“And if they don’t?” Buffy asked. 

Harry gave her a lopsided grin. “Let’s not bollix this up and find out, eh?” 

“Are you sure about this, Harry? Believing that he’s not aiding Greyback and trusting him to help are two entirely different things,” Bill said. 

“Who said anything about trusting him?” Harry shot back. With that, he walked over to Malfoy and pointed his wand at him. “ _Ennervate_.”

Malfoy got to his feet like a shot. Before he could let loose the torrent of curses that were on the tip of his tongue, Harry cut him off. 

“I’m going to lay it on the line for you, Malfoy. If you help us stop Greyback, the Ministry will lift all restrictions, financial, magical, everything, for both you and your mother. I have your mother’s amulet here for you now, as a sign of good faith,” he said, tossing the other object in his hand over to him. 

Malfoy caught the necklace deftly in one hand. He studied it for a moment before looking up. “And if I don’t agree to help?”

He was met with a stony silence. Bill’s fears in Harry were clearly unfounded. 

Malfoy gave a bitter laugh. “And everyone believes you’re the good guys.”

+++

The agreement was signed with little fanfare. Though they haggled over a few of the conditions, Harry and Malfoy made their magical mark on the parchment without a word. Then Harry simply uttered a spell that made the agreement binding.

As the magic settled into place, the quasi-enemies stared at each other, both a little stunned by what they had just done. 

“I take it you two won’t be sealing this deal with a kiss.” 

The sound of Buffy’s voice snapped them out of their stupor. While Harry grimaced in response, Malfoy, ever true to form, looked at her with a leer. 

“Well, as long as you’re offering…”

Buffy shrugged. “It’s your funeral,” she said as she flexed her hands, as if readying for a fight. 

That quieted the arse down.

“Okay, Malfoy, it’s time to hold up your part of the deal. Start talking,” Harry ordered. “And what’s this business about Nott and Goyle?”

Malfoy gave him a belligerent look, and for one moment, Bill thought that he was going to refuse. It quickly disappeared, however, as Malfoy sighed in defeat.

“About one month ago, just after the full moon, Greg, Theo, and I began receiving packages. I thought nothing of it at first. Why would I? My house elves sort through anonymously sent cursed objects and Howlers on a daily basis. These were just innocent trinkets. Greg didn’t think much of it, either, though I think we’ll all agree that’s hardly a surprise. We may be mates, but he’s about as thick as they come. It was Theo who saw it for what it was. He saw how each object related to… certain events that happened in our seventh year, ones that only a handful of people knew about, all of whom are confirmed dead save one. Still, I didn’t believe it, so Theo did the only thing he could. He reported it to the Ministry, who promptly told him to piss off,” he said. He drew his lips together in a thin line, his bitterness almost palpable. “He disappeared right after that, about two weeks ago. Greg soon followed.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t know why I didn’t hear about their disappearances--”

“Because no one reported it,” Malfoy replied. “All their family is either dead or in Azkaban. No one else gives two fucks about them.” 

“Apparently not even you, not enough to swallow your pride and tell someone they’re missing,” Harry pointed out. 

Malfoy’s eyes flashed angrily. “Right, because I was sure to have an audience with Shacklebolt himself and not at all be treated like a joke, or worse, as a prime suspect. Besides, there’s no evidence of foul play. Bloody hell, they left notes saying they were out of the country. And before you ask, no, I don’t think they went into hiding. If that were the case, they wouldn’t have written a fucking letter announcing it. They also would’ve told me. Even if they _did_ want to leave on an extended vacation, they have no place to go. Pureblood they may be, but between them they couldn’t rub two knuts together.”

He was interrupted by a large, choking cough. All three men turned toward Buffy, whose face was inexplicably beet red as she tried to get herself under control.

Deciding it was best to give her a moment, Harry glanced over at Bill. “The Imperius Curse,” he said quietly. 

Bill had to agree. It sounded like the Unforgivable at work. 

Unfortunately, the word ‘curse’ caught Buffy’s ear as well, the coughing immediately under control as she looked between them curiously. Bill tensed, silently willing her not to ask any questions that would reveal her non-magical origins. 

Thankfully, she never got the chance. Harry quickly resumed his questioning, testing the veracity of Malfoy’s story, well aware that Malfoy could still be lying, hiding behind cleverly phrased answers that could trick the secrecy sensor. Malfoy acquitted himself well, though; the sensor remained quiet through each response.

As it became clearer and clearer that Malfoy was telling the truth, Bill began to piece it all together. 

There was now no doubt in his mind that Greyback was trying to turn them all into werewolves. For the children of Death Eaters, it would be a fate worse than death and the perfect revenge for Greyback, as their precious pureblood line would be tainted forever more. It was almost poetic, actually. 

Because full transformation would only occur if the victims were turned on the full moon, Bill also realized there was a chance they could still save Nott and Goyle -- if Greyback had been able to restrain himself. They had to try, though. Merlin knew how many others would be subject to the same fate if they didn’t, Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix members alike. It was only sheer luck that Bill himself wasn’t among them this time, his old wand malfunctioning as a portkey.

He frowned as something occurred to him. 

“You’re the only one he’s contacted but has yet to make a move on. Why is that? Why hasn’t he gone after you yet?” he asked. 

Malfoy shrugged. “He has to be able to reach me behind the Manor’s walls first.”

Just then, the secrecy sensor began to whir like mad.

Harry was at Malfoy’s side in an instant, his wand at his throat.

“What aren’t you telling us?”

Malfoy glared back, his eyes full of resentment. He had no choice but to answer, however. “It has been made known that Greyback will spare me if I bring Granger to him.”

Now Bill was on his feet. “Is that why you came here? Hoping to find a way to Hermione?” he demanded. 

Malfoy gave a snort of disdain. “I came here to retrieve my belongings, as was promised to me. If I wanted to deliver Granger to him, I would have done it when she asked to borrow those blasted books, not here in the Ministry through some convoluted scheme with her bloody secretary. Do you actually think I’m fool enough to trust that wanker to keep his word? Or risk bringing down the wrath of the entire Wizarding World upon me for taking their precious Golden Girl?”

Harry gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t know. You came here, didn’t you?”

“Because I was desperate,” Malfoy snarled. “The full moon is two days away. You and I both know what that means.” 

So he wasn’t as confident in the Manor’s wards as he had said, Bill mused. 

It suddenly made more sense why Malfoy had come here in the first place and why he was cooperating, aside from the incentives promised to him for his help. Still, Bill wasn’t entirely convinced by Malfoy’s explanation of why he hadn’t tried to hand Hermione over in an effort to save his own hide. Before he could explore that any further, however, Buffy spoke up. 

“I have a plan,” she said slowly, looking at Bill in a way that told him he wasn’t going to like what she was going to say next. “We know that going straight at Greyback with wands ablazin’ won’t work. We don’t know where he is, and if he detects too many of us, he won’t show, either. We have to go at him sideways, find a way to trap him. The only problem is that we haven’t had a way to do this… until now.”

“Absolutely not,” Draco protested. “You’re daft if you think I’m going to dangle myself as bait.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Relax, Billy Idol. I didn’t say you were going to be the bait. Think of yourself more as the tackle.”

+++

Reviews would be a beautiful sight for these sore eyes! :) 


	17. Carpe Diem

+++

Buffy knew her plan was insanely risky. She had no illusions about that. If they wanted to trap Greyback, they would have to pretend to play his game, letting him dictate the rules, the game pieces, even the board itself. That was why she fully expected Bill and Harry to shoot her idea down. To her surprise, however, she could see that they were actually giving it some serious consideration.

Apparently, Draco couldn’t believe it, either.

“You’re either insane or just incredibly stupid. There is nothing, short of an Imperius, that would make me go near that psychopath,” he declared. 

The guy was smart, Buffy would give him that. He pretty much took himself out of her plan in one fell swoop. Even if Harry and Bill had trusted him before, there was no way they would involve him now. There were already too many unknowns. They couldn’t risk another one, especially one this big -- and Draco knew it, his perma-sneer giving way to a smile of victory, one that was daring them to do something, looked forward to it even. 

Unfortunately for him, he had to work a lot harder than that to get under her skin. She couldn’t say the same for her partners in crime, however. 

Buffy instinctively braced herself for Harry and Bill’s reaction, ready to jump in if it got ugly. Instead of rising to the bait, however, they did nothing. In fact, they barely seemed to acknowledge Draco’s sweeping declaration, especially Bill. He simply gave the blond a long look before he finally spoke.

“When is this exchange supposed to happen and under what conditions?” he asked. “How are you even to alert Greyback you’re willing to make the exchange?” 

For a split second, it looked like Draco wasn’t going to answer, probably afraid they were going to imperial-whatever him after all. When Harry waved the contract at him, however, he relented -- very grudgingly.

“There’s a Portkey when I’m ready,” he bit out. “It’s at Nott’s house. I was informed that I would recognize it when I saw it.” 

Buffy’s heart fell. A Portkey was the worst of all possible situations. That meant a trap or an ambush was out, let alone any good ol’ fashioned bluffing, since Greyback would immediately see that Hermione wasn’t there. For all they knew, the Portkey would transport _them_ directly into a trap located in some godforsaken place. It ratcheted the level of difficulty up a notch from shot in the dark to virtually impossible -- at least from her slayer point of view. From the looks Harry and Bill were exchanging, however, it looked like they had something up their magical sleeves.

“Polyjuice Potion,” Harry said quietly. 

Bill nodded. “It’s the only thing that would trick a werewolf’s nose into believing it was really Hermione -- and Malfoy,” he said, making Draco’s non-participation official.

Even though Buffy suspected he was doing backflips on the inside, Draco kept his face carefully blank, hiding any emotion he felt. She didn’t feel the need to show the same restraint, her frustration visible to anyone who had eyes -- but for good reason.

She didn’t know what Polyjuice Potion was, but she could guess. She also knew she wouldn’t be too keen on taking it; if she didn’t, however, she was effectively benching herself.

For this plan to work at all, only ‘Hermione’ and ‘Draco’ could go. Even if she were able to tag along under Harry’s nifty cloak, it would do no good if they all landed into a trap. She needed to be free for search and rescue -- though of course, without any magic at her disposal, she wasn’t really the ideal choice for that, either. 

Bill had apparently come to the same conclusions -- and the same dilemma, knowing how magic averse she was. 

“All three of us can’t go. It would be foolish to do so. Harry, since you and I know Hermione and Malfoy best, it should probably be us,” he said, carefully gauging Buffy’s reaction out of the corner of his eye as he spoke. When he didn’t see any resistance or outrage at his proposal, he continued on. “With any luck, ‘Malfoy’ will have some freedom, so one of us will be able to do something if it all goes south; at the very least, perhaps buy some time for Buffy and the others to find us.” 

Though Buffy still wasn’t thrilled at being left out, she momentarily forgot about it as the last part of Bill’s plan sunk in. 

Up until now, he had purposefully kept his friends and family out of it, something which Buffy wholeheartedly agreed with. Bill was right, though, there was just no way around it anymore; even if Buffy could find them on her own -- or if she went instead of Bill or Harry -- they all would need some serious backup if Greyback had in fact assembled a whole pack. It probably helped that ‘Hermione’ and ‘Draco’ would be the only ones placed in imminent danger. Still, it was a big concession, an unexpected one.

By the look on his face, Harry, too, was caught off guard. Before he could weigh in, however, Draco let out a harsh laugh.

“Ordinarily, I’d relish the chance to watch you lot crash and burn. Seeing as my fate is tied to yours, however, I feel compelled to point out the obvious flaws in your plan. For instance, what will you do if there’s a Legilimens among them? Rumor has it your Occlumency is shite, Potter. And then, of course, there’s the little matter of the Polyjuice wearing off,” he said. When he was met with silence, he rolled his eyes. “Honestly, it’s absurd how much you Gryffindors rely on nothing but bravado and sheer luck.” 

Harry grit his teeth in annoyance. “We still have a lot to work out, it’s true. And I really don’t fancy going into this situation blind with just the three of us, either, so we will need some backup,” he conceded. “That being said, I think we might be onto something. So… shall we get started then?”

Bill looked to Buffy to see what she thought, which she appreciated, since this new plan was a far cry from what she had been originally thinking. It was unnecessary, though. She was 100% on board. Even though a small part of her feared that they were all a little too close to this to make anything resembling a rational decision, she also knew this was the best chance they had, maybe the _only_ one they would get.

Without the slightest hesitation, she nodded. And with that, the plan was a go.

+++

Buffy had to give her little group credit. They may have been on a fool’s errand, but they were at least going to own it.

As soon as their minds had been made up, all three went into full on strategy mode, planning and plotting their next steps. It went surprisingly well, considering they were all alphas when it came to group activities. Of course, it helped that there was a pretty natural division of labor, as there were some things Buffy and Bill just couldn’t do.

Apparently, Theo Nott’s house was not “Muggle-friendly”. Because of Bill’s shaky relationship with the authorities, sending him wasn’t such a good idea, either. That left Harry and Draco -- and Neville, because they all agreed that Harry shouldn’t go alone to get the Portkey in case the house itself was a trap.

At first, Buffy wasn’t so sure about including Harry’s friend, not wanting to drag anyone else into this mess until absolutely necessary. She quickly got over her reservations, however, once she learned what he could do. 

As Aurors, Harry and Neville could secure the house between the two of them, and no one would question them. Neville could also help set up the extra protection for Draco’s mom, which Harry had promised as part of Draco’s cooperation, secure Polyjuice Potion, and, if Buffy heard correctly, go to the hospital with Harry to get a strand of Hermione’s hair so they could add it to the potion before they _drank_ it, all without raising any suspicions or drawing any unwanted attention. 

In the meantime, Bill and Buffy went back to Bill’s home to start working on their plan of attack. Unfortunately for her, part of that meant combing through the endless files Bill had managed to snag from Hermione’s office.

Research had never been Buffy’s strong point, mostly because she didn’t want it to be. She knew she had to bite the bullet this time, though; it was important intel and she was the only one who got a good look at the werewolves, so before she could find a way to distract herself, she said down on the couch and cracked open the first file -- only to have her jaw hit the floor.

Holy Homeland Security.

The amount of information before her was staggering, not to mention highly intrusive, especially since this particular werewolf did nothing more than get a little furry once a month. She thought it had to be a fluke -- until she went through the next file, and then the one after that, and the one after that, and saw it was all the same.

Horrified, Buffy looked over at Bill, who had his back to her as he charmed various objects with defensive spells. 

She had seen and heard a lot over the past few days; so much so that she actually believed she understood the stigma attached to being a werewolf in his world. This took it to a whole new level, though; one that forced her to step down from that soap box of hers once and for all and acknowledge that his struggle was just as complicated and unfair and real as hers was. It was no wonder Bill fought so hard against accepting the wolf within. It wasn’t a death sentence like being Called was, but it made life a living hell. And yet, at the end of the day, there was no denying who he was. Even now, he could sense her eyes on him, though she hadn’t so much as moved a muscle.

Pausing in his work, he turned toward her and cocked his head to the side questioningly. “Did you find something?”

Buffy bit her lip. After all the crap she had given him, he deserved to know what she was thinking. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it, though, not yet.

“Nope, needle is still firmly hidden in haystack,” she said lightly. “Making any headway on your end?”

Bill shrugged. “A little. You and the others will have a good defense at any rate -- once you find us, which, unfortunately, is another matter entirely. We have to assume we can’t rely on any of the traditional methods of tracking, that they’ll be prepared for that. Harry and I can’t be counted on to help from the inside, either, as we’ll most likely be transported directly into a trap of sorts, since Greyback won’t know when Malfoy plans to activate the Portkey, or if he’ll try to doublecross. Even if we could use something along the lines of a location spell, there’s also the issue of distance.”

Buffy expected as much, but it was still disappointing to hear. “So you’re pretty much where I am, otherwise known as nowhere,” she sighed. 

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I at least have _something_ to show for my work,” he teased as he gestured to all the stuff behind him. He laughed when she stuck out her tongue in response. His expression quickly turned thoughtful, however, as he caught sight of some papers on the far side of the room. “Hmm, you may want to look at the stack of parchment over there. They’re my own notes on Greyback’s whereabouts before he returned to England. I thought he was staying on the move so he wouldn’t be caught, but it just occurred to me that he may have been recruiting. There’s no guarantee you’ll find anything, as the Ministry files focus mostly on werewolves in Britain, but it’s still worth a look. Werewolves here frequently migrate to less restrictive countries.”

Buffy groaned. “As if research wasn’t bad enough, now you want me to _cross-reference_? Just kill me now.”

Bill shook his head, the laughter glinting in his eyes again. “Someone with your brains, who charges at dragons and Graphorns without the slightest hesitation, felled by a little reading? I never would’ve believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.” 

“You’re one to talk,” she retorted. “You practically burst into tears when you found out Draco had to come here.” 

Instead of admitting defeat, or at least looking a little chagrined at getting called out, Bill actually nodded in agreement. “And I stand by my actions,” he said solemnly. “I’m still tearing up at the thought of allowing a Malfoy to set foot in my home.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, though the effect was somewhat ruined by her smile. “You’ll survive somehow. And so will he, which from what you’ve described, wouldn’t be the case if he showed up in Hermione’s hospital room with Harry and Neville.” 

“It would be entertaining, though, especially if George or Ginny were about,” Bill said with an evil grin. It quickly turned into a grimace as he looked over at the door. “I suppose it’s back to work. They should be here soon. Even with a contract, the less Malfoy knows, the better.”

Buffy nodded, silently seconding that thought. She didn’t have the years of mistrust like Bill and Harry did, but she had seen and heard enough to be careful around him.

With that, they both focused back on their tasks. As much as she had complained about it, Buffy immediately began combing through Bill’s files, and she was glad she did. It turned out Greyback had gone on quite the European vacation, hitting almost every country in the continent more than once. When she looked a little closer, however, she could see that he kept circling back to Sweden, Romania, and Germany almost every time there was a full moon. It was subtle, but the pattern was definitely there, at least to her eye.

Acting on her hunch, Buffy dove back into the Ministry files, pulling out the werewolves who had any connections to those three countries. Sweden and Germany were a bust, but she hit pay dirt in Romania. 

She might not have recognized him if she hadn’t been paying extra attention to his ties to the country. After all, the only real good look she got was after she had rearranged his face, and the picture on file was definitely taken during his more clean cut years. But there was no doubt about it now. She had found Broken Nose. 

“Gotcha,” she murmured. 

This caught Bill’s attention. When he looked over at her, she held up the file triumphantly. 

“Excellent!” he exclaimed as he hurried over to sit next to her on the couch. Within seconds, he was pouring over the document. “Well, this is surprising. He’s never had any affiliations with Death Eaters, not even the slightest hint. He moved to Romania well before the second war and became second in command to one of the more peaceful packs in that region.” 

“So why would a guy like this join the Dark Side?” Buffy asked. 

Bill shook his head, obviously troubled by this. “I’m not sure.” 

Buffy frowned. She had more questions, but Bill was concentrating on Broken Nose’s files with so much intensity, she didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, her brain was officially fried; she needed a break from the research.

Normally, this was when she would go patrolling. Because that was impossible, she turned to the next best thing -- a weapons check. Or at least, she tried to. 

Buffy loved Winnie, but she suddenly found herself a little sword-shy now. She wasn’t so sure using it against Greyback was such a great idea, thinking, at this point, it was more of a liability than anything. The only other weapons at her disposal, however, were the backpack full of ‘I’m sorry’ goodies George Weasley had given her, which were probably also magic-based and thus unusable. Still, she was curious to see what was inside, so she quickly retrieved her backpack from where she had left it before they went to the Ministry and peered inside. 

For the second time in Bill’s home, she felt her jaw drop. 

The bag itself looked bottomless. It was hard to tell, though, because it was filled to the brim with dozens upon dozens of magical tricks and tools, all with handwritten notes on what they were and how they should be used. 

Very carefully, Buffy began to sift through the items, taking a quick inventory as she did. Though there was nothing in there that could stop an apocalypse, most of it could be useful in the day to day slayings, like the Sunny Spells, the Decoy Detonators, and even the instant Peruvian Darkness. All in all, there was a lot of potential in one small bag. There was also a lot of danger, and not just for her and the other slayers. George was putting himself at huge risk for giving all this stuff to her, someone of the non-witchy persuasion. 

Feeling a little overwhelmed, Buffy closed up the bag, deciding to think about the future of slayers and magic later. Her immediate issue was weapons, or lack thereof. Just as she started eyeing Bill’s wooden chairs, wondering how mad he’d be if she took a leg off one, there was a loud crack right outside the house. A moment later, Harry and Draco walked through the front door. 

They both looked extremely annoyed. Harry’s expression quickly turned to relief, however, when he caught sight of Bill and Buffy.

“Portkey’s taken care of,” he announced, holding up a round object wrapped in a piece of cloth.

Bill nodded. “I’ll lock it up until we’re ready to use it,” he said, and with a wave of his wand, the Portkey disappeared. “We still haven’t worked out a decent tracking spell yet, but Buffy identified one of the werewolves in Greyback’s pack.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Excellent. I’ll take a look when I get back. Right now, I need to move on the other pieces of our plan as quickly as possible. Neville’s already waiting for me back at St. Mungo’s,” he replied, as he practically sprinted over toward the door. Looking over his shoulder, he gave Buffy and Bill a sympathetic look as he turned the handle. “Good luck.”

Then he was gone. 

An awkward silence immediately filled the room, with Draco looking incredibly uncomfortable and out of place as he stood in the doorway. Bill didn’t help the matter, either, doing no more than offering him a chair before getting back to his own work. Buffy almost felt bad for the guy. Even though he was a complete jerk, he was obviously scared out of his mind, desperately trying anything to protect him and his mom, even if that meant asking for help from someone he hated. For a second, she even considered extending the olive branch. When she saw Draco’s lip actually curl up in disdain as he surveyed Bill’s home, however, refusing the proffered chair as if it was infested with bugs or something even worse, she decided to save her energy for more important things.

Following Bill’s lead, Buffy sat back on the couch and sighed. It was a sad day when research was actually better than the alternative.

Soon, however, she forgot all about her grumpiness -- and the person it was directed at -- as she became immersed in her work, picking up where she had left off. It only barely registering in her brain when Draco finally caved and sat down. 

It was a lot harder to ignore the way he was staring at her. 

“So, I understand why Weasley and Potter are doing this, but what about you?”

Buffy didn’t bother looking up from the file in front of her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we did the whole talking thing.”

He ignored her comment and went on. “I can only assume that you share the same hero complex as them. Either that, or you’ve got a kink for werewolves.”

The laughter bubbled out of her before she could stop it, amused at how close he was to the truth without knowing it. 

“Something like that,” she replied mysteriously. 

He didn’t know what to make of that, which only made her laugh more. The situation became decidedly less funny when he continued to openly stare at her, long after she turned back to the files once again. It was if she had become his own personal challenge, one whose weakness he could figure out if he just looked hard enough. 

Too bad for him this was one battle she was not going to lose. Determinedly, she focused on the papers before her. She made it through the last of the Romanian ones before she was even tempted with the thought of closing his eyes for him. Before she could take it any further than that, she was saved by the bell. Literally. 

Buffy jumped to her feet as the house suddenly filled with the sound alarm bells. 

“Someone’s here,” Bill said grimly. “They’ve triggered the wards around my property.”

“We’re under attack?” Buffy gasped. 

Bill shook his head. “The wards aren’t broken, but they’re here, just beyond the boundaries.” 

With long, purposeful strides, he made his way to the door, with Buffy right behind him. Before he pulled open the doors, however, he paused. 

“We can’t leave him here by himself,” he said flatly, gesturing to Draco. 

Buffy nodded in agreement. “Looks like you’re coming with,” she said cheerfully. 

Draco scowled, though he was definitely a little paler. “Not bloody likely. Did you not hear me or are you just thicker than Weasley’s brother? I’m not going anywhere near that psychotic werewolf.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. She was amazed the guy was able to stay upright in his chair, not having any kind of backbone and all. 

“Look, I can either drag you out of here, or I’ll just knock you out again. Your choice,” she said.

Draco began sputtering in outrage. Before she could make out what he was saying in between the outbursts, Bill took matters into his own hands.

“ _Incarcerous_!”

Ropes suddenly appeared and wrapped around Draco, pinning him to the chair he was sitting in. Without further ado, Bill ran out of the house toward the edges of his property, with Buffy following his lead, as the sounds of Draco angrily yelling rang out behind them.

“You know, if you let me punch him out, he wouldn’t be making so much noise,” Buffy pointed out.

Bill arched an eyebrow. “You don’t get to have all the fun.”

“Says who?” she shot back. “I’m not really big on the sharing--”

The words died in her throat as she spotted something lying a hundred feet or so in front of her -- a dead girl lying in the tall grass. A small, blonde, dead girl with what looked like a piece of paper pinned to her shirt. 

Buffy felt a flush of rage envelop her whole body. Another girl was dead because of this mess, because of _her_. 

Not sensing any werewolves around, she increased her pace, quickly passing Bill. She didn’t get too far, though, before she felt his hand snag her by the arm. 

“Buffy, wait!”

Buffy could have easily broken his hold. She allowed herself to be stopped, however, because she could hear the urgency in his voice. 

“She’s just beyond my wards,” Bill explained between breaths, panting slightly from the exertion. “If you pass beyond them, you’ll be vulnerable to attack. You also won’t be able to get back in by yourself.”

Though she was practically vibrating with the need to move, to do something, the thought of being stuck on the outside kept her in check. After all, it may have been exactly what Greyback wanted; while there was a chance this was a coincidence, that Greyback was leaving a body every place he thought they could be hiding, she knew in her gut this wasn’t the case. It was worse than that. Somehow, _he_ was tracking _her_ , first to the coven and now here, making her a liability. It also effectively blew their own plan to bits, since they couldn’t take it for granted that he didn’t know about Draco, too.

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Buffy turned back to the girl. Though she was still a dozen feet away, she could see the paper pinned to the girl’s shirt had writing on it. 

_Come out and play, girlie, or more will follow._

The anger came rushing back as her fears were confirmed. Greyback was calling her out -- and in that moment she knew. She was going to answer. She was _always_ going to answer. 

Even if the attack wasn’t aimed directly at her, if this poor girl hadn’t died just because she was short and blonde, Buffy would never be able to walk away from something like this; not because she was duty-bound, or because it was the right thing to do, but because she didn’t want to. 

It was a revelation of sorts, one that was a long time coming and not completely surprising considering the past few days, but it still managed to catch her off balance. After all, she didn’t choose to be a slayer, and for the longest time, she definitely didn’t want to be one. It took eight long years and one very hypocritical campaign against Bill to get to the point where she could finally accept the truth. 

It didn’t matter if she was the One or one of many. The slayer was a part of her and always would be. What’s more, until she stopped thinking of it as a burden and truly embraced it for what it was, she would never be anything close to happy; she would always be wishing for something else, always wanting ‘normal’ instead of redefining it for herself. And she wanted to be happy. 

That didn’t mean it was always going to be fun; in fact, it was going to suck _a lot_ , starting with the loose ends she left back in Cleveland. Not to mention the fact that finding the balance between slaying and the rest of her life had been and would continue to be a constant struggle -- but at least she had the opportunity to try, that it wasn’t an either/or for her, that, as Bill had pointed out, she was so much more than just the Slayer. It was a luxury many slayers before her didn’t have, and she owed it to them not to waste it licking her wounds and bemoaning her fate. 

Yep, it was time to stop running away. It was time for her not just to be strong but stay strong. 

Most of all, it was time to seize the fish.

+++

A/N: Another eye surgery, another recovery period, and I’m back, hopefully to stay this time. Thank you for sticking with this story despite the long time between updates! At least, I hope you’re still with me. *eep!* 


	18. Casting the Die

+++

It was the baby Graphorn all over again, only so much worse.

Bill rubbed a tired hand over his face, trying his best to forget the image of the dead girl lying on the edges of his garden, if only for a moment. It was no use, however. The image was permanently etched into his mind.

Needing to look away, he turned toward Buffy. 

“The Department of Magical Law Enforcement will have to be notified about this,” he said quietly. “The Aurors will be able to get her back to her family. They’ll also need to investigate. That being said, it might be best if we’re not here when they do arrive.”

Buffy frowned, her eyebrows drawing downward. “Won’t that make you look more suspicious?”

Bill chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “It certainly won’t make my life any easier, particularly if they can’t find any evidence that Greyback was involved, but I don’t see that we have much choice. Harry and I will get caught up in endless red tape otherwise, missing our window of opportunity. Of course, that means someone else will actually have to report it...”

His voice trailed off as he tried to think of who that could be. George, perhaps, or maybe Charlie--

“So we just leave her here until then?” Buffy cut in, clearly unhappy with the idea.

Bill wasn’t pleased with the thought of leaving her any longer than necessary, either, but he knew he had no choice. Still, his gaze strayed toward the dead girl, offering her a silent apology before he spoke. 

“I can cast a concealing spell around her, so no one will bother her until one of my brothers can get here,” he murmured. “I’m afraid we can’t do much more than that. We can’t disturb the crime scene, not if we ever hope to prove Greyback was behind this.”

Though still upset, Buffy nodded. She stayed silent as he cast the spell, her eyes fixed on the girl; nor did she speak when he sent a Patronus to Harry and the others, explaining the situation and telling them to go to Grimmauld Place instead of Shell Cottage. As soon as the silver jackal disappeared from view, however, she whirled around to face him. 

“He’s tracking me -- or us, anyway. He’s got to be. How is that possible?” 

Bill blinked, unsure how to respond. For though there was certainly logic to her statement -- the timing of Greyback’s now multiple appearances was far too coincidental -- there was just one problem. 

“It’s not possible. Even the most basic wards are created in such a way that nothing can penetrate them, unless the wards themselves are first undone.”

Buffy raised her eyebrow. “So you think he just got lucky, first at the coven and now here?”

Bill shrugged. “He could’ve followed us there by broom. And it’s only logical to think we would come to my home at some point.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it’s the best I’ve got at the moment.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “So you do think he’s following us, even if you don’t know how. Which means there’s a chance he knows about Draco, too…”

Her voice trailed off, but it wasn’t difficult to grasp her meaning. 

Their plan hadn’t been much to begin with, a risky gambit stitched together with luck and a burning desire to stop the werewolf once and for all. Now it was in shambles -- _if_ Greyback was tracking both them and Malfoy. That was a point Bill was not willing to concede, however, not yet. 

Malfoy might have been the biggest tosser in all of England, but he was a crafty one, and a careful one, especially when it was his own arse on the line. Going to the Ministry had probably been the biggest risk he had taken once he realized what was happening; Bill doubted he moved anywhere except from one heavily warded space to the next. The only way Greyback would know Malfoy’s whereabouts was if they were working together -- and even then Bill was hard-pressed to figure out how or, more importantly, _why_. 

Though Bill wouldn’t put it past the slimy git to jump at the chance of revenge against Harry and Bill’s family, no matter how small, Malfoy had everything to lose by aligning himself with Greyback. It would bring no victory, only reprieve, and a brief one at that. He would never gain a position of power or prestige or even protection. On the other hand, the contract with Harry offered an opportunity to get back into the Wizarding World’s good graces again. It also ensured that Malfoy’s entire family would be in ruins if he double crossed them. 

If that weren’t enough, Harry had done a thorough scan of his nemesis in the Ministry for any traces of magic and had confiscated his wand; the two had been together ever since. There was simply no way for Malfoy to communicate his location -- unless he found a way through the wards, including the Fidelius Charm, one of the most ancient and powerful concealment spells in existence.

His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Buffy rolled her eyes again.

“You put a lot of stock in these wards. I mean, I get that they make a place invisible and basically unfindable, but what about smells? Does it block those, too?” she asked. “Because a werewolf’s nose would be able to pick up even the tiniest scent in the air. Even if Greyback couldn’t find the place, he’d know who was here.” 

Bill frowned. He assumed that was the case, but he couldn’t say for certain. 

Buffy smirked at his hesitation. “No offense, but maybe your wards aren’t as airtight as you think. Seriously, I got Winnie through one of them, didn’t I?”

Bill had forgotten about her sword - or that he had yet to discover a reasonable explanation for how it had passed through his wards. Of course, it wasn’t as though they were talking about any sword. She had Arthur’s legendary sword enchanted by Merlin himself. Bill couldn’t even imagine the kinds of magic woven into the weapon, much less the specific spells. He wouldn’t be surprised if some had been lost to time, disappearing with Merlin--

Ancient magic lost to time.

Bill almost smacked his forehead as it came to him. The answer had been right there in front of his face, and yet if not for Buffy’s mind-boggling refusal to take certain magical concepts for granted, he might not have seen it.

“You are brilliant!” he declared, and without thinking, he clasped her by her shoulders and gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek.

Before she could react, he rushed back to Shell Cottage. Once inside, he began pulling books off the shelves with reckless abandon. When he found the one he was looking for, he rushed to his desk and whipped it open, scanning the pages almost frantically until he found the passage he was looking for. He was so immersed in his task, he didn’t hear Malfoy’s renewed demands to be released; nor did he see Buffy enter his home -- until she smacked her hand down on the passage he was trying to read, effectively getting his attention and startling Malfoy into silence. 

“What is going on?” she demanded. “I’m all for the light bulb, as long as I’m not left in the dark.” 

Though he wasn’t quite sure what she was saying, Bill knew a look when he saw one. Now was not the time to play coy. “Blood magic,” he quickly explained. “I think he’s tracking us -- or more precisely _you_ \-- through your blood, which he must have acquired in the forest.”

Buffy swore, muttering something about it always being about the blood with more than a little bitterness.

Bill didn’t blame her in the slightest. Blood magic wasn’t something to make light of. Still, it wasn’t all bad news. There was a silver lining, and a sizable one at that. First, however, she clearly needed some reassurance.

“They couldn’t have gotten much,” he reasoned. "Most of your blood soaked into your clothing or the ground. I would venture that they used most if not all of it in a tracking spell, which really is fortunate for us. Blood magic is a lost and forbidden art, purposefully so. Though its true nature was not rooted in malice, it was often employed to conjure the nastiest curses, ones on par with the Unforgivables.”

He could see a million questions about magic swirling in Buffy’s head. She did not let that deter her from asking the most important one, however. “Lost and forbidden? So that means we can’t use it, too?”

Bill grinned. “I didn’t say that.”

As a cursebreaker, he was in a unique position. Though he’d never actually performed it, he knew quite a bit about the basic principles of blood magic; much more than the average wizard. Otherwise, he’d never be able to _undo_ some of the centuries old curses he came across.

That wasn’t to say he could put together a tracking spell on the spot. Blood magic was exceedingly intricate work, and like he had said, much of it had been lost to the passage of time. Rather, he had a solid foundation from which he could work; what would take most wizards months to unravel, he already knew. Of course, that begged the question -- how did Greyback ever gain access to such magic, let alone have the skill to pull it off?

Bill’s gaze fell to his unwanted house guest, his suspicions igniting once again. The Malfoy line was one of the oldest and obviously well versed in the Dark Arts. No doubt they would have some basic knowledge of blood magic. Malfoy could’ve shared some family secrets in exchange for his own hide -- or perhaps someone else was helping the werewolf. After all, Malfoy’s family wasn’t the only one involved here, was it? There was also Theodore Nott, son of a Death Eater, currently missing and presumed captured or dead, whose family hailed from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, who also happened to be an exceptionally bright wizard. 

Bill knew this last part firsthand. Nott had unsuccessfully applied for a position as a Cursebreaker, failing only because of the lack of trust his potential colleagues had in him, a crucial element to the work they did. 

Yes, Nott would have both the knowledge and the skills, his family going back almost as far as Malfoy’s -- though both paled in comparison to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Bill realized.

“We need to leave for Grimmauld Place,” he declared. “There might something there that can help us with this.”

With that, he began gathering the books and parchments he would need to aid his research, mentally noting all the texts he would need. Because he wouldn’t be able to return to Shell Cottage if he forgot something, the list was quite large. 

For as busy as he was, Buffy did not move in the slightest. That did not mean she was idle, however. Bill could practically see the wheels spinning in her head, and it made him uneasy -- as it turned out, for good reason.

“I have to be the one to go through the Portkey. The only one.”

Though Bill inwardly froze at these words, he acted as if he were unaffected, continuing to pile books on his desk without pause as he replied.

“While I really don’t fancy turning into my pregnant sister-in-law or worse, _Malfoy_ , Harry and I are really better suited for this, even more so now that Greyback can determine your whereabouts so easily. All it would take was one look, and he’d see you weren’t who you said you were.”

The side of Buffy’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “Except I won’t be going as either of them. I’ll just be little ol’ me,” she announced. 

Shocked, Bill dropped the parchment in his hand and whipped around to face her. “But- but that’s madness!” he spluttered. “The plan only works if Greyback thinks Malfoy is on his side, and the only way Malfoy would know about you is if he talked to us. Greyback will know it’s a trap, or at least he’ll be suspicious.”

“No, he won’t, not if he thinks Lizard Boy double crossed us and tricked me into grabbing the key thingy. And even if he is suspicious, he won’t have a Draco doppelganger to prove it either way. He’ll just have me in his clutches, unarmed and alone, just like he wants,” she replied. “Think about it. I’ll be completely useless in sneak attack. I’d be much better as bait. I can keep his attention until the cavalry arrives.”

Bill shook his head. “Except that we’re not talking about mere minutes here. Even if we find you right away, it will take time to break through the wards. Until then, you’ll be completely at his mercy, stuck in only Merlin knows what kind of situation, with no one to talk -- or duel -- him down, not even if he tries to kill you.”

“You and I both know he won’t unless he has to. He’d rather play,” she disagreed. 

“Wonderful. So you’ll simply be tortured. That’s so much better,” Bill said sarcastically. 

“Because ‘Hermione’ will be treated to tea and cookies, even with fake Draco there to run interference?” Buffy pointed out. When Bill didn’t immediately acknowledge the double standard, she narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Is this a macho thing or a magical superiority complex? Because let me just say that nobody puts Baby in the corner. It’s not like I’m completely helpless, either, and I can always summon Winnie if things get really bad.”

Bill fought back the growl that was trying to claw its way out of his chest. “Because that went swimmingly the last time. And what will you do until then, when he’s casting spells you won’t know how to withstand, magic that you are not prepared for--”

“So prepare me.”

Bill threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. She was acting so calm, as if she did not have a glaring aversion to magic. He knew better, however; he had not hesitated to use it to his benefit when they had first concocted their plan -- and he would not hesitate to do so again. 

“It’s not that simple. They won’t hesitate to use the Unforgivables, like the Cruciatus Curse in Devon,” he reminded her, but she merely shrugged her shoulders as if the whole episode had been nothing. This time, he didn’t bother hiding the growl as he spoke. “Then there’s the Imperius Curse, which puts you under complete control of the spell caster.” 

To Bill’s immense satisfaction, this one had a much bigger effect. 

Buffy let out a small shudder. “I like my torture straight up, thank you very much. And there’s no way I can protect myself from that?”

“You can,” Bill admitted. “But it takes practice, as well as an exceptional strength of will--”

Buffy gave a loud snort. “Nevermind, then, I’ve got that part covered.” 

“--and then they can simply read your mind and uncover our entire plan, not to mention any weaknesses you may have.” 

This, admittedly, was a slight stretch. Legilimens and Occlumens were far and few between. From the files Buffy had identified, it was not a skill any of Greyback’s followers possessed. That did not mean it was impossible, however, and she needed to know that. She also needed to know the worst of the lot.

“And let’s not forget the Killing Curse. There’s no escaping that one. All you’ll see is a green flash of light, and then you’re dead.” 

By this point, both Bill and Buffy were radiating with anger, each having moved around the desk, getting closer and closer to one another with each heated exchange until there was scarcely any space between them; him glowering down at her, his lips pulled back into a snarl, and her staring up at him, her chin raised in stubborn defiance. They stayed like that for several long moments. When it became clear that neither was going to budge, however, Bill took a step back, both literally and figuratively, as he tried to find a way to de-escalate the situation. 

“This isn’t your fight,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anything else. 

She heard him, though, and it only made her angrier. She quickly closed the space between them once again. 

“This is exactly my fight. It will always be my fight, even if he wasn’t killing girls to get to me,” she hissed up at him. “Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but sitting on the sidelines isn’t my style. It will never be.”

In that moment, with the scorching heat radiating from her eyes, the unwavering resolve, he understood. This was about so much more than catching Greyback. She had finally come to terms with herself and her destiny.

What lousy fecking timing. 

It wasn’t that her idea didn’t have merits. It was the risks he took issue with -- ones that had nothing to do with skill or gender, like she had previously implied.

He had selfish motivations in suggesting he and Harry be the ones to rendezvous with Greyback. The fact that Buffy was more than capable of handling herself was irrelevant. It was because he simply couldn’t bring himself to put his friends and family at risk, a group to which Buffy most definitely now belonged, perhaps even more than he was willing to admit. 

There would be no dissuading her, however, and in his heart, he knew that his objections weren’t reason enough to try, particularly if all went according to plan. 

Taking a deep breath, Bill tried to clear his head. 

“You’re right,” he said, his mouth quirking slightly at the way her jaw dropped at his concession. “I’m not saying I’m completely on board with your plan, not yet, but… I’m not saying I’m against it, either. Let’s reconvene with the others, let me sort out this bloody tracking spell, and we’ll go from there.”

This seemed to mollify her. Mostly.

“So just for the record, you’re admitting that it’s not a bad idea, right, that it actually might make the most sense, all things considered? And you’ll never pull this ‘poor little Slayer can’t hold her own’ crap again?” she asked.

Though the heat in her voice was gone and she peeked up at him from under her lashes, Bill wasn’t fooled. She wasn’t quite ready to let it lie.

He decided honesty was the best way to go. 

“Trusting you to get the job done was never the issue,” he said. After a pause, he added, “But you owe me for the hell I’m going to catch from my mother for this.”

He said the last part to lighten the mood, but he did not get the reaction from Buffy he expected. In fact, he got no reaction at all, not even a roll of the eye. Instead, after a long beat, she reached down toward his work desk and picked up a small knife he kept there for potions work. Without the slightest hesitation, she cut her hand with it and filled one of the empty vials on the desk with her blood. Once that was done, she grabbed a cloth for her injured hand and held the vial out to him.

Bill, shocked to his core by her actions and what they signified, blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You shouldn’t give your blood away so freely.” 

She met his gaze steadily. “I trust you,” she said. 

A moment of silence passed between the two before Bill reluctantly took her offering. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. Looking down at the cloth, which was quickly getting saturated with her blood, he asked, “Will you let me heal your hand?” 

She hesitated, but after a brief moment, she moved the cloth away and held out her hand. Wordlessly, Bill pulled out his wand with one hand and gently took her hand with the other. Ignoring the jolt he felt at the small contact, he murmured a quick healing spell, keeping his eyes fixed on the cut as it vanished. He didn’t let go of her hand immediately, however, and she didn’t pull away.

A few more seconds ticked by before she finally withdrew her hand, looking a little flustered as she did. “So, uh, you really think you can do this? How long will it take?”

Happy for the change in subject himself, Bill cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m certain I can, before the full moon if all goes well. Mind you, it will be a quick and dirty spell, but we don’t need anything more than that. Of course, that being said, the sooner we get to Grimmauld the better. I’ll need another 20 minutes here, but then I’ll be ready to go.”

Buffy nodded. “I’ll get my things together,” she said. She started to turn away but stopped almost immediately, pursing her lips thoughtfully as she looked back at him. “Do you have a needle and thread I can use?”

Bill nodded and pulled open a drawer in the desk, thankful that he had kept the small but useful trifles Fleur hadn’t bothered to take with her. He quickly picked up the sewing kit inside and handed it over to Buffy. 

She accepted it, but curiously, she didn’t move. Instead, she stood there, fidgeting uncomfortably until she finally said, “This is going to sound so much weirder than I mean it to, but uh, could I use your bedroom for a few minutes?”

Bill felt his eyebrows hit his hairline at her request, but he did not pry. “Of course. It’s down the hallway, the last room on the left.” 

After giving a nod of thanks, she scooped up her rucksack and scurried away. Bill watched her for a moment, wondering what in Merlin’s name she was up to, before he turned back to his own work, only to find himself interrupted once again. 

“Ahem.” 

During Buffy and Bill’s whole exchange, Malfoy had remained suspiciously quiet. Now, however, he decided to make his presence known. 

“Well, wasn’t that quite the show?” he sneered. 

“Shut it, Malfoy,” Bill growled, not bothering to look at the tosser as he spoke. 

“Unlikely,” Malfoy sniffed. “Particularly if you don’t release me _immediately_.” 

Surprised, Bill looked up to see that his guest was indeed still trussed up. Somewhat reluctantly, he raised his wand and undid the bonds. 

Malfoy quickly rose to his feet. Though his gaze was fixed on the hallway where Buffy had just been, he did not speak, so Bill simply ignored him as he continued to gather his belongings. Soon, he had everything, save the Portkey.

It was a curious object, Bill thought as he retrieved it and placed it on the desk next to his papers. It was a polyhedral die not much larger than a golden snitch with strange symbols carved into each side. Curious of their meaning, he turned to Malfoy -- who was still staring down the hallway.

Bill frowned. All things considered, the less Malfoy knew about Buffy, the better. Bill could see that would be a difficult task, however, now that she had piqued his interest.

Sensing the sudden attention, Malfoy snapped out of his stupor and looked at Bill accusingly. 

“Who is she?” he demanded. 

“She’s none of your concern,” Bill tersely replied. “Let’s keep it that way, eh?”

He purposefully let the slightest hint of menace enter into his voice, hoping to draw attention away from Buffy and onto him and his reaction to questions about her, counting on the fact that Malfoy couldn’t resist the opportunity to taunt any member of his family. 

It worked all too well. 

Malfoy shook his head and clucked. “Why don’t you just mate the bint and be done with it? Should come naturally enough, seeing as you’re part weasel, part werewolf and she’s all bitch--”

Before Bill knew what he was doing, he rushed up to Malfoy and threw him against the wall, using his arm to keep him pinned there. Though Malfoy struggled, he was no match for Bill, who used his much larger frame to his advantage.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth about Buffy. You’ve already slung more than enough insults her way, and I’ve had it. Say one more insult -- just _one_ \-- I dare you,” he snarled, his teeth bared. “And make no mistake. Buffy is more than capable of defending her own honour, and could do far worse things to you than I could. I would do it just because it would make me feel better.”

Malfoy put on a brave face, but Bill could smell his fear. It saturated the air around them, and a part of a Bill relished in it, bathing in the delicious scent. The other part of him was horrified. It was too close to the full moon, and it was obviously wreaking havoc on him. What had started as a ruse quickly turned into something very real and very dangerous. 

Cursing, Bill immediately withdrew his arm and took a giant step backward. As soon as the pressure lifted, Malfoy darted across the room, putting the desk between the two men, his eyes flashing with embarrassed fury. 

Feeling slightly ashamed of himself, Bill started to apologize. Before he could find the appropriate words, however, Harry’s Patronus appeared in the center of the living room. 

“There’s been another attack,” the stag said. “A girl in front of Malfoy Manor with note that says ‘tick tock’ attached to her shirt.”

The silvery beast then turned to vapor and disappeared.

“Son of a bitch!” Malfoy cursed. “I’ll gut that bastard for this! How dare he try to drag my mother into his sick, twisted game!”

Bill only vaguely heard Malfoy as he continued ranting; his eyes were glued on Buffy, who had appeared in the doorway behind Malfoy, the commotion apparently drawing her attention. She had the strangest expression on her face as she stood there; one that was almost apologetic.

“I won’t let anyone else die because of me, not when I can stop it,” she said, her voice barely audible over Malfoy’s. “It’s time to cast the die… even if it a big, dorky, dungeons and dragons one.”

Before he could fully comprehend what she was doing, Buffy made a dash for his desk. It was only when he saw her reach for the Portkey that he realized her intention. 

With a shout, he lunged toward her, but it was too late. In fact, all he managed to do was startle Malfoy, who was apparently still shaken by their previous encounter; at the sight of Bill charging in his direction like a madman, he scrambled out of the way, his arms and legs flailing around almost blindly -- sending him careening directly into Buffy as she made contact with the Portkey. 

All Buffy could do was grab onto Malfoy, absorbing the shock of the blow as best she could to avoid tumbling to floor. 

It was unnecessary. Before they even came close to hitting the ground, they both disappeared with a small _*pop*_.

+++

A/N: I really am trying to get these chapters out. No, seriously. 


	19. With friends like these

+++

Buffy had made a lot of rash decisions in her lifetime, but this one had to be near the top -- especially since she _knew_ she shouldn’t have grabbed the Portkey, even as she was reaching for it. The alternative, however, was unacceptable. Besides, it wasn’t like she was going up against the First and its army of Turok-Han. It was a handful of magic-using werewolves; she was pretty confident she could fight her way out of it.

Even if the worst happened and she got caught in their trap, she wasn’t too worried. She truly believed that Greyback didn’t want to kill her. Sure, he would put the hurt on, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t take, especially since it meant his attention would be on her and no one else. The full moon was still a day away so she didn’t have to worry about being turned, either. All she would have to do was sit tight and not provoke him too much until she either found her moment to escape or Bill found her. 

That was the first sign her plan was doomed to failure. Because she obviously ignored it, the universe decided to send her another one -- in the form of Draco Malfoy. The only problem was, she never saw it coming, not until it was too late.

But really, how was she to know anything would come of Draco and his mini-freak out? He looked more like a cartoon character trying to escape the big Acme bomb than an actual threat. It wasn’t like he was _trying_ to get to the Portkey, either. 

And yet the end result was all the same. 

Buffy could only watch in horror as one of Draco’s hands headed right for the Portkey. Knowing it was going to be a race to the finish line between the two of them, she put on a burst of speed, bracing herself for the inevitable collision as she reached for the die. 

For a split second, she actually thought she had succeeded; her fingers touched the edges of the Portkey just as she crashed into the Draco, propelling him away from the die with her body. Before she could pat herself on the back, however, she felt his hand next to hers, unwittingly brushing against the die. The next thing she knew, both she and Draco were being sucked into the magical vortex hell known as the Portkey, only to be spit out in the middle of a forest. Again. 

Buffy supposed she should’ve been grateful they weren’t dumped over a lake this time. Cold, hard ground wasn’t much of an improvement, though, especially since she and Draco landed on it in a heap, still falling from their collision in Bill’s home, with their arms and legs in a tangled mess. 

“Get off me, you stupid bint,” Draco wheezed, trying his best to shove her off of him. 

Buffy wanted to hit him. In retrospect, she should have. Not only was the manhandling completely unnecessary, but his wild scrambling got them even more entangled than they already were. Between that and the Portkey wooziness she was feeling, she was unable to defend herself from the attack that came a split second later.

The first spell that hit stung like a bitch. The second one had even more bite, probably because it came right on the heels of the first, with barely a second between them. 

Still, she was surprised when her world went black a moment later.

+++

Buffy swam back to consciousness with a groan, momentarily forgetting where she was and how she got there.

“Well, you’re certainly awake earlier than I expected. Draco here only took a third of the damage you did, and he’s still sleeping like a baby.”

It was the splash of cold water she needed. Eyes snapping open, Buffy sat up as quickly as she could, ignoring her body’s protests at the sudden movement. Instinctively, she reached for her stake, but it wasn’t there. Neither, she noticed, were the goodies from George she had stashed in her pockets. All she had on her by way of weapons were her necklace and ring, which were useless offensively, and the darkness powder she had managed to sew into the lining of her pants before the ruckus had started in Bill’s living room, but she didn’t want to use _that_ until she had a better sense of her surroundings.

Inwardly cursing at her lack of weapons, Buffy moved into a defensive crouch nonetheless and readied herself for an attack -- only to discover it was completely unnecessary. The only other people in sight were Draco, lying unconscious next to her, and a guy who looked like something the cat had dragged in -- and then dragged back out again -- sitting on the ground just a few feet away. And they were all locked in a gigantic cage. 

Still, Buffy didn’t let her guard down as she inspected her cellmate, even though the guy had clearly seen better days, his naturally thin frame downright gaunt. He also obviously hadn’t bathed or changed clothes in weeks; his longish black hair was a matted mess, and his dirt-stained clothes looked like they were holding together by a thread. 

It was completely at odds with the way he was calmly watching her as if she were a bug under a microscope or something equally insignificant.

It was this look that made her wary, even though she was pretty positive he was one of Draco’s missing friends. As she tried to put some distance between them, however, her pain increased tenfold, especially around the back of her head, forcing her to stay put.

“They aren’t taking any chances with you, are they?” the guy noted, his tone indifferent. “Though two stunners and a good old fashioned knock to the head seem a bit excessive even for someone such as you, don’t you think?”

Buffy’s hands flew up to her head, immediately seeking out the most sensitive spot. Sure enough, there was a deep cut there. Thankfully, it wasn’t too bad; the blood was already beginning to clot.

And yet, she noted, the air practically reeked with the scent of blood. Considering all the other less than pleasant smells around them, it was saying something. 

Buffy’s eyes flew to Draco, feeling a sense of panic as she rolled him onto his back and checked for injuries. She didn’t like the guy, but she definitely felt partly responsible for him being there. To her immense relief, however, there wasn’t a scratch on him. In fact, he looked peaceful, serene even, now that his face was relaxed and missing its characteristic sneer lines.

Sadly, it wasn’t made to last. Her jostling woke him up, and he went from slumbering cherub to hissing cat in less than second when he opened his eyes and saw her leaning over him.

“You’re like my own bloody Grim, aren’t you?” he spit out as he scurried away from her. “I’m--” 

“Morning, sunshine.”

Draco’s eyes went wide at the sound of the voice. “Theo!” he exclaimed, looking around Buffy to spot the other guy. “Where’s Greg?” 

Theo pressed his lips together in a thin line and fell silent. A long moment passed before he pushed himself to his feet and stepped to the side, revealing someone lying on the ground a dozen feet or so behind him.

Theo had very carefully positioned himself between them, Buffy realized, playing his angles just right to obscure his friend from their view. It was quite the feat. Greg was a mountain of a man, easily bigger than the other two put together. He also seemed like he was barely alive.

Without a second thought, Buffy rushed to his side, knowing that he had to be the one reeking of blood. As she knelt beside him, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

To say he had been worked over was an understatement. 

The poor guy -- Greg -- was covered in cuts and contusions; some old, some new, and some that definitely looked well on their way to infection. What really made her heart sink, however, were the bite marks.

She heard Draco come up behind her. When he caught sight of his friend, he made a choking sound.

“What the fuck, Theo?” he rasped.

“What do you think?” Theo coolly replied. “Greyback and his cronies decided to have a little fun.” 

“Why only him?” Buffy asked aloud, her eyes flitting between Theo and Greg, pointedly looking at the difference in their appearances.

It was an obvious question, though, and she couldn’t have been the only one thinking it. Still, Theo looked at her as if she’d just said the dumbest thing, as if _she_ were the dumbest thing. 

“I was too valuable,” he said. At Draco’s hard stare, he added, somewhat grudgingly, “I could help them with potions. Unfortunately, Greg didn’t have any talents they were interested in. They thought he would serve better as an example of what would happen to me if I didn’t comply with their demands.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Potion _s_? Is this in addition to the blood magic?”

 

Theo shrugged, nonplussed by his friend’s tone. “Potions to help them transform into werewolves outside of the full moon,” he replied. “They want to see if they can turn people whenever they please. Greg was their test subject. If he survives the transformation, they’ll know they have carte blanche.”

Buffy gasped. Bill had been thinking something along those lines, and it explained why all those attacks had been chalked up to dog attacks. Neither of them had considered the possibility that Greyback did it so he could turn people whenever he wanted, though. It was disconcerting, to say that least. 

For Draco, it was too much to take. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he exploded. 

“Quite the opposite,” Theo shrugged. “I’ve done whatever I’ve had to do to survive. Don’t act as though you wouldn’t have done the same.”

Something about that comment got Draco’s attention. He studied his friend for a moment, and apparently, he didn’t like what he found. 

“You son of a bitch!” he raged. “You set me up, didn’t you?”

Without waiting for Theo to either confirm or deny this, he lunged for his friend. 

Theo had just enough time to get his hands up. “We don’t have time for this shite, Draco! It won’t be long until the guard fetches Greyback and the others back from their hunt. And really, do you think me such a simpleton?” he snapped as they grappled on the ground, his controlled demeanor finally cracking. “The only thing I’ve ever done is try to get us the hell out of here.” 

That made Draco pause. “What do you mean?”

Theo rolled his eyes as they both sat up. “I bought you time, you dolt, not to mention Granger. Greyback didn’t have a clue how to get to her, so I suggested that he use _you_ to get to _her_. I even laid out the whole sodding plan for him, with the understanding that he would spare us if you were successful -- though I don’t believe for a second he plans to honor our agreement. I thought for certain you would abandon your pride to save your hide and tell Granger the truth. And if you didn’t, at worst, we’d be stuck in this cage with the brightest witch of our age with Saint Potter hot on her trail. Leave it to you, though, to not only come without a wand but bring a _Muggle_ with you, even one like her.”

Draco’s eyes bugged out of his head at this last part. He craned his neck to stare at Buffy, the look on his face something between disgust and morbid fascination; like he just found out she had a fatal contagious disease. 

“You’re a… a _Muggle_?”

Buffy ignored him and turned toward Theo. Draco might have fixated on the whole Muggle thing, but she was focused on the first part of Theo’s speech. And she was pissed.

“So let me get this straight. You purposefully tried to get an incredibly pregnant woman here to this hellhole just to save your sorry ass? And that was your best idea?” she scoffed. “No wonder you’re still trapped in a cage.” 

From what little she had gleaned from the guy, she knew this would hit him where it hurt.

Sure enough. Theo’s eyes narrowed, though for the most part he remained as cool as ever.

“By all means, show me the way out, if you think you can do better,” he replied, gesturing almost lazily to the cage.

Buffy was tempted to stay put. She definitely didn’t want to give the impression that he had successfully goaded her into something, but she wanted to stay in the cage even less. If she could find a way out before Greyback came back, she was going to take it. 

Without deigning to respond to his challenge -- at least verbally -- Buffy got to her feet and took a good look around, wanting to get a better sense of her surroundings.

Interestingly, the forest they were in looked similar to the one she and Bill had been dropped into. There were some noticeable differences, however, like the vegetation, which was far and few between here. The trees themselves were spaced further apart, with sizable swathes of hard, dry soil between each one. And boy was it cold, uncomfortably so. The biggest difference, though, was the sheer mountain faces on either side of them. 

They were in a notch between two mountains, she surmised. 

It was a smart choice. No one could sneak attack from the mountain sides. That left only two possible entries. Because of the lack of vegetation, it wouldn’t be hard to spot someone coming from either way. 

Even their ‘camp’ was sparse. Besides the cage, the only things nearby were some basic necessities. She didn’t even see any tents or anything along those lines, just a large table that had some bottles filled with a blue liquid, bowls of crushed powder -- and a large map with five crystals on it; clear ones at each of the four corners and blood red one in the middle. It looked suspiciously like the setup Willow used for her location spell.

Buffy frowned. She needed to take care of that somehow. She also needed to figure out how to get her stuff back; for lying next to the map were her stake and magical tricks.

First, though, she needed to find a way out of the cage. 

Turning all her attention to Obstacle Numero Uno, she strode the door of the cage. As she drew closer to the bars, she immediately felt a wave of magic emanating off them. Cautiously, she touched the metal, only to get a nasty zap in return. 

“It’s spelled, obviously,” Theo drawled. “I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the patronizing tone in his voice. They thought way too much of their own magic and too little of everything else. ‘Spelled’ didn’t mean it wouldn’t break, and sometimes a little elbow grease could work wonders. She wasn’t going to let a little bee sting stop her. 

Before the peanut gallery could make any more condescending comments, she delivered a brutal mule kick to latch. 

This time, the magic blew her back a good five feet as pain lanced through her body.

“Did I forget to mention that the harder you hit it, the harder it hits back?” Theo said, as both he and Draco sniggered at her. 

Buffy felt her face flush with anger as she pushed herself to her feet and stalked toward them. She didn’t know why they were so worried about Greyback. She was going to kill them long before he did. 

Theo and Draco must have seen her intent written all over her face, because they both began backing away from her. Luckily for them, they were saved by their friend. Just as Buffy passed by Greg, he let out a tortured moan as he shifted from one position to another, revealing his legs beneath his robe.

Buffy felt her stomach sink as she saw the way his left leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Abandoning her vow to put the hurt on the two stooges, she dropped to her knees and rolled Greg onto his back as gently as she could. Once she was sure he was comfortable, she pulled up his pant leg and began probing around the bone, trying to feel where the break was. What she found startled her. 

She could feel the jagged edges of the bone pressing against the skin of his inner calf. He was one wrong move away from a compound fracture -- or worse. 

Tamping down her ever increasing resentment toward Theo for not even attempting to help his friend, Buffy stared at Greg’s leg as she tried to figure out what she should do. 

If all went well and she found a way out -- or Bill found a way in -- she could leave it up to medical professionals to fix Greg up. But if his leg took any more punishment before then, there would be all sorts of badness. There was also the danger of it setting in the wrong position. As of now, the bone was still mobile, but if that changed, it would go way beyond her first aid skills and she would be helpless to help him. 

Her mind made up, Buffy got to her feet and began searching for makeshift supplies. She quickly found two branches that she could use as splints and sized them to Greg’s leg. She was just about to tear the sleeves off his robes to make bandages when she was interrupted. 

“What are you doing?” Draco demanded. 

Buffy looked up from her work. “One of the bones is about to break through his skin, so I’m going to set it before it does.” 

She didn’t try to hide her annoyance at being interrupted when it was obvious what she was doing. When she saw Draco’s and Theo’s faces, however, she softened just a smidge. They had no idea what she was talking about, which was probably why nothing had been done for poor Greg before this. 

As quickly as she could, she described the process of setting a bone as she began to tear Greg’s sleeves. Though Theo and Draco clearly didn’t like her methods, they didn’t try to stop her, either.

Soon, there was nothing left to do but fix Greg’s leg. The time for conversation at an end, Buffy positioned herself at Greg’s feet and grasped the lower half of his leg. Once she was sure she had a good grip, she steadily pulled down, using Greg’s own massive weight as a counterbalance to give her the traction she needed. 

At first, Greg whimpered as she manipulated his leg, which was totally manageable. She ran into trouble, however, when he began to thrash around uncontrollably. 

“Crap!” she muttered, struggling to keep his leg stable as she tried unsuccessfully to swing her own leg around to pin him down.

Just as the situation started to become dire, Theo suddenly appeared by Greg’s shoulders; Draco joined him a few seconds later, and between the two of them, they managed to hold down their much larger friend. 

Seizing her opportunity, Buffy pulled on Greg’s leg again until it extended slightly beyond his other. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the bones slide into place. As quickly as she could, she grabbed her makeshift splints and tied them on either side. 

When the last bandage was tied and his robe was pulled down to shield Buffy’s handiwork from prying eyes, Greg’s body finally relaxed. 

Draco sat back on his haunches, his lip curled in disgust. “This is what passes for healing in the Muggle world? It’s barbaric.”

His disdain was significantly undercut by the green pallor of his face. Still, it was a long way from gratitude, and Buffy felt her hackles raise in response. Before she could act on it, however, Theo spoke up. 

“So what now?” 

Buffy blinked, taken aback by his question. Not only was he actually asking her opinion, but, if she wasn’t mistaken, his hostility towards her was noticeably less. Still, she didn’t reply. She wasn’t quite ready to share her idea yet, especially with him. 

Draco mistook her silence and gave an amused snort. “You’re wasting your time if you think Weasley’s going to find you with blood magic.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Nothing is better than wizarding magic, all other kinds should bow down.”

“No, he’s right,” Theo chimed in, again with less condescension than before. “It’s not about the superiority of one kind of magic over another. It’s about the strength of the spell, regardless of its origin. In theory, blood magic should trump warding magic, but I can tell you firsthand that it doesn’t. They found you when you were between wards. Otherwise, you were nowhere to be found. Admittedly, your blood wasn’t freely given, which affects the quality of the spell, but I pulled together a pretty bloody fantastic one, if I do say so myself. I doubt Weasley will have much more success given the time constraints.”

“So you’re telling me that out of all the magic in the world, only death spells and wards are absolute? Got it,” Buffy grumbled. 

She ignored the looks of offense she received at her gross mischaracterization. Her mind was fixed on the implications of what Theo had said. While she still held out hope that Bill would find her, this bit of news, if true, threw a Hellmouth-sized monkey wrench in her plans. 

She needed to get out of there, and fast.

With renewed determination, Buffy walked toward the door again, inspecting it closely. She felt a rush of excitement when she saw a tiny ding in the exact spot where she had hit it. 

Her idea hadn’t been so crazy, after all.

Bracing herself for the pain, she gave it a few more experimental kicks, though none nearly as hard as the first one. Each time, she got blown back. 

Breathing hard, she looked at the door again. The ding was larger now, but not by much. At this rate, it would take forever, and time probably wasn’t on her side. 

Her eyes still on the door, she called out over her shoulder. “How long will they be gone for?”

“It could take some time if Greyback and the others are back in England. It’s a serious drawback of making yourself Untraceable and your wards impenetrable.” 

Buffy’s jaw dropped open at this tidbit of information. She looked around at the somewhat familiar forest. Greyback wouldn’t be so arrogant or dumb to return to Sweden, would he? 

She whirled to face Theo. “Where are we?” she demanded. 

But he didn’t answer at first. It was only at her hard look that he relented. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “We’ve moved around several times.” 

Buffy studied Theo. She still had reservations about the guy, but she thought he was telling the truth. His reluctance to talk seemed to be more from the fact that he didn’t know the answer. Seriously, it was nothing short of a miracle that both his and Draco’s heads fit in the cage at all. 

Mentally letting him off the hook, Buffy turned back to the cage, wondering how she would get through both the metal and the magic.

She needed Winnie, she realized. The sword might be able siphon off some of the spell. She would also need her once she was outside the cage. Now was the time summon Winnie, too; Buffy remembered how long it took the last time. She highly doubted Greyback would give her a meditation time out so she could retrieve her later on. 

Striding over to the far side of the cage -- away from the door and the other guys -- she sat down, facing toward the outside. She didn’t love the idea of doing it in front of Draco and Theo, but she had no choice. Closing her eyes and clearing her mind as best she could, she focused on Winnie. 

“What are you doing?”

Buffy cracked open her eyes and glared, even though it was wasted on empty space. “Working on a way out of here. If you want to get out of here, you’ll let me get back to it.”

She heard Draco and Theo whispering to one another -- and she definitely heard the word ‘Slayer’ -- but she closed her eyes and ignored them; eventually their voices faded into the background, her entire focus on Winnie. She stayed like that until she finally felt a familiar tingle rush through her -- followed by the feeling of cold steel in her hand. 

Grinning, Buffy looked down at Winnie. 

Behind her, Theo and Draco gasped. Before they could pepper her with questions, however, she heard rustling in the woods. 

Greyback had returned. From the sound of it, he would be coming into view any second.

Buffy could’ve tried to open the door, but there was no guarantee it would work the first time, and if she failed, it would leave her ace in the hole on full display. So instead, scrambling like a crazy woman, she put Winnie on the ground and began throwing brush and leaves over her. She managed to cover the sword completely just as Greyback and six others appeared. 

Greyback’s eyes gleamed with delight as he caught sight of his captives. “Well, look what we have here,” he breathed, running his tongue over his lips. 

To Buffy’s surprise, Draco boldly strode up to the bars before anyone else could speak. “I brought you a present. Consider it a peace offering.” 

Greyback narrowed his eyes. “Oh, really? But it wasn’t what I asked for.”

There was an underlying menace to his voice, but Draco just scoffed at it. “Getting Granger was damned near impossible. I thought this might suffice. Now let me out of this sodding cage.”

Greyback stalked closer, his teeth bared in a snarl. “It’s not enough.” 

Draco shrugged. “Alright. What if I tell you she has a sword hidden at her feet?”

+++

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! One of my resolutions is to finish this story. Granted, it’s an easy one to make, seeing as this fic has officially entered the home stretch. For those who also read House of Cards, I’ve officially taken that one out of hiatus as well. :)

I want to thank everyone who’s still reading/reviewing/reccing this fic. I know reviews and readers are waning (and yes, I have a love/hate relationship with the site's story statistics), so I particularly appreciate all of you who have stuck with me as I wrap up my first 20+ chapter fic ever!


	20. Rock Bottom

+++

“BLOODY BUGGERING HELL!”

Bill hurled an empty phial at the wall, but he got no satisfaction from the sound of it shattering. It didn’t undo what had been done. It didn’t bring Buffy back -- though at that precise moment, it may have been for the best, as he was just as likely to throttle her as hug her. 

Honestly, what was she thinking, taking off like that? It was one of the most reckless things he had ever seen, and he had Fred and George for brothers. If this didn’t go exactly right, Buffy could end up dead. Or worse. 

In another burst of rage, Bill threw a second phial against the wall. He was sorely tempted to toss the whole damned table next; he certainly had plenty of anger for it. If he did that, though, he wouldn’t stop until Shell Cottage was thoroughly thrashed, and he simply didn’t have the time to indulge. As of that moment, every second counted.

Ruthlessly tamping down his emotions, he did one last sweep of his house to make sure he had everything he needed. On a whim, he grabbed Buffy’s bag from his bedroom, where it was lying on his bed with her sword still tucked inside. Though it was highly unlikely he would be able to tap into the deep magic woven through the sword -- let alone use that magic to find her -- its power was undeniable, and it clearly had an affinity for Buffy. It didn’t seem right leaving it behind. 

Ready to go, Bill strode back into the living room over to his fireplace and threw the floo powder in. 

“12 Grimmauld Place!” 

The first thing he saw when he stepped through the flames was Harry, a worried frown on his face as he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. When he caught sight of Bill, however, his expression eased into a grin. 

“Oi, mate! I was wondering when you’d get here,” Harry greeted him. His smile faded, however, when the flames of the Floo died down and no one else appeared. “Where’s Buffy and Malfoy?”

Before Bill could reply, the rest of his family entered the living room. After their initial greetings, they all looked at him expectantly, some echoing Harry’s question. 

Knowing there was no good way to break the news, Bill decided not to mince words. “Buffy activated the Portkey and accidentally took Draco with her.”

There was a stunned silence in the room, though it lasted only a few moments.

“WILLIAM ARTHUR WEASLEY!” his mother screeched. “How could you let her do that?”

“I didn’t ‘let’ her do anything,” Bill replied, his lips immediately curling up into an angry snarl. “She grabbed the Portkey before I could stop her, and believe me, I tried.”

He knew he wasn’t striking the best tone with his mum, but it couldn’t be helped. He was still angry at the situation himself; her accusation was not helping.

For a moment, Bill thought his mum was going to well and truly lose it. His family did, too; or maybe they were concerned about _his_ reaction, seeing as he was obviously wound pretty tightly over the situation. Whatever the reason, they all took a giant step back from the two of them -- except for his father, who was the only one brave enough to try and diffuse the situation. 

“I’m sorry, Bill,” his dad said quietly. “This must be difficult for you.”

“Yeah, mate,” George chimed in, his father’s actions apparently spurring him to grow a pair. “It’s never easy learning you’ve lost your touch with the ladies, but finding out she’d rather spend time with Greyback and Malfoy over you? That has to sting.”

As he spoke, he walked over to Bill and clapped a sympathetic hand on his back. 

Bill shoved his brother’s hand away with a growl, though there was no real anger behind it. If anything, George’s smart ass comment erased the tension in the room, and for that he was grateful -- even enough to ignore the jab. His mother, too, seemed a bit better. Though she was clearly a long way from pleased, she held her tongue.

Satisfied that situation had been diffused, Harry cleared his throat. 

“So what do we do now?” 

Bill took a deep breath and explained his theory regarding blood magic. 

“I thought the Black family library would have something on the subject,” he finished. “Hoping, actually.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but it was Percy of all people who beat him to it. “It doesn’t. As you may know, after the war, I was in charge of cataloguing all texts and artifacts owned by families with known Death Eaters, and the Black family was no exception. I personally combed through this collection, and I can tell you, there is nothing like that here. I can also tell you that all texts referring to blood magic found in private collections were seized and are currently residing in the Ministry of Magic.”

Bill hid his disappointment. Before he could ponder his next steps, however, Harry coughed, somewhat uncomfortably. 

“Er, that’s not entirely true. There may have been a few books that I… forgot to dig out during inspection.” 

There was a collective gasp in the room, particularly from Percy, who looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. George, on the other hand, was beaming from ear to ear, the initial shock wearing off almost immediately. 

“Harry, you dog!” he exclaimed. “You didn’t trust the Ministry, did you? Not that I blame you.”

Harry shook his head emphatically. “No! It’s not that I didn’t trust the Ministry, just… certain individuals there. After all, Kingsley may be in charge, but there are still people there who thought it was a good idea to make Dolores Umbridge Senior Undersecretary, whether they admit it or not,” he said defensively. 

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Bill replied. “I need those books.”

Harry nodded and left the room, avoiding Percy’s gaze as he passed by. 

Not wanting to dwell on Harry’s compliance -- or lack thereof -- Bill turned to the other pressing issue, the one he dreaded bringing up. 

“There’s also the girl back at Shell Cottage--”

“I’ll take care of her,” Percy volunteered, the grim set of his mouth becoming even grimmer. “Harry’s probably best suited for this job, but I’m sure he’d needed here. Besides, I’m owed a few favors, so I should be able to buy you some time. You will have to answer some questions as soon as this is over, though.” 

Without waiting for approval, he walked toward the Floo. As he grabbed a handful of powder and threw it into the fireplace, however, he paused and looked over his shoulder. 

“I think it’s best if these last few minutes of conversation never happened, so please, let’s not speak of it again. Now then, Ministry of Magic!” 

With that, he stepped into the green flames and disappeared.

Bill felt a swell of pride and respect for his younger brother. Percy was still frustratingly bound to policies and procedures, but there was no doubt his family came first. 

Turning to the rest of his family, he clapped his hands together. 

“Alright then, let’s break into teams. Obviously, we need to get to work on those books. I also brought over some files on the werewolves we’re dealing with, which may be helpful. It wouldn’t hurt to have a strategy in place when we do find her, either.” 

As everyone broke into groups and threw themselves into the tasks at hand without the slightest hesitation, Bill allowed himself the tiniest bit of hope that they all would get through this fiasco unscathed.

+++

Bill slammed the last book shut. He had known it wouldn’t be easy, but he had thought he’d at least have found a clue as to how blood magic could be used to find someone. None of Harry’s books provided any help, though, except to confirm what he already knew.

Blood magic was not inherently evil. It did, however, produce powerful spells, ones that often had dramatic effects on the caster and the person whose blood was being used. Because of this, it was ill-suited for location spells, unless the caster was trying to bind someone to him or already possessed a pre-existing bond with the other person. 

Overlaying blood magic onto existing location spells did not work well, either. Here the blood was only used to enhance the other spell instead of drawing from the essence of the blood itself to create and shape the magic, which was where the true power lay. While it could work to a degree, it wouldn’t produce anything strong enough to break through a well-constructed ward. Just to be certain, George and Harry had already tried it themselves with no success, the spell unable to ‘locate’ George while he was inside 12 Grimmauld Place.

Still, there had to be a middle ground. Bill felt it in his gut. 

Perhaps he was reading the text too literally, too myopically. If that were the case, the spell he was looking for may be hidden in another, requiring only a few modifications to suit his purposes. 

Taking a deep breath, Bill closed his eyes as he thought of spells that would be similar in intent.

Finding. Searching. Seeking.

Seeking that which was hidden or a mystery, the unknown.

Bill’s eyes snapped open. 

Frantically, he picked up one of the books and flipped through the pages until he found the passage he was looking for. He held his breath as he read and re-read the text, all the while telling himself it couldn’t be that simple. And yet, the answer was staring him in the face. 

In ancient times, Norse wizards used runic magic for divination. In this way, they used the essence of the blood as the magical source and the rune as the anchor that guided it. It was so commonplace as a far as blood magic went -- and equally non-specific -- that he had dismissed it out of hand. But it could work.

Still, Bill kept his hope in check. Blood magic or not, he wasn’t sure if this spell would be powerful enough to break through wards. Then there was the spell itself. Divination was tricky business. The runes themselves were esoteric in nature. Each rune had multiple meanings and moved in multiple directions. While he himself was no slouch when it came to deciphering them, he would be hard pressed to say that he had full mastery of them. He also knew that, if done incorrectly, he could find himself either back at square one or some place much, much worse. 

The key may be the rune stone itself, he realized. It was the conduit between the specific runic marking and the blood. Traditionally, they were carved from the wood of fruit-bearing trees. For his purposes, however, it stood to reason that it needed to have a magic of its own, something that could help guide the magic of the blood without overpowering it. 

Finally feeling comfortable enough to put voice to his thoughts, he looked up at his research companion, Angelina. 

“I think I’m onto something,” he said, before proceeding to explain his idea. 

After mulling it over, Angelina nodded. “I think that could work. It’s the best lead we’ve gotten so far. I say we go for it. Do you know which rune to use?” 

“Raidho,” Bill immediately replied. “I’ll want to research it more thoroughly, of course, just to be certain, but I’m almost positive it’s the right one.” 

“I’ll leave that to you. Runes are definitely not my area, or anyone else’s really, except for you and Hermione,” she said, shuddering at the thought of the Study of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. She brightened a moment later, though. “Hey, I have an idea. What about using a crystal for the rune stone? They’re sometimes used in healing spells. I’ve personally used them myself on a few occasions. Like you said, they aren’t enough on their own but provide a nice compliment a spell, sometimes giving it a much needed kick.”

“I think it’s brilliant,” Bill replied. “Runes and crystals often work hand in hand.” 

Angelina grinned. “I have a book on the subject at home, which I can easily retrieve. There’s got to be one with magical properties suited to our needs.”

With that, she hurried from the room. When she returned a short while later, Bill nodded a greeting but said nothing, too engrossed in his own book to say anything. Soon, they both became immersed in their respective texts.

“Bill. Look at this.” 

Before Bill could look up, Angelina was shoving a book under his nose. As he saw what she was pointing at, he couldn’t help but grin.

_Sunstone, known in modern times as calcite or Iceland spar, was used in medieval times by the Vikings to aid in navigation as they traversed the seas, the stone itself possessing mystical qualities of wayfinding._

“Let’s try it.”

Angelina nodded. “I’ll get George. Between the two of us, we should be able to find at least one.” 

She quickly hurried to find her husband, leaving Bill by himself amongst the pile of books, which was fine by him. He used the time alone to confirm his hunch about which rune to use. When that was done, he delved into the incantation, making slight changes here and there. He had just about finished when Ginny raced into the room.

“Bill,” she said breathlessly. “Buffy’s sword. It was sitting right in front of us with all the rest of her stuff, and it… it _disappeared_. How is that possible?” 

Bill felt all the blood drain out of his face. Unlike Ginny, he wasn’t bothered so much that the sword had disappeared. He had seen it do something similar right before his own eyes. For him, the stab of fear was because of _why_ it had disappeared. 

Buffy must have summoned it -- which meant she needed it. 

Bill swore loudly. He knew the sword was important; it was why he had taken it with him in the first place. He should’ve spent more time looking at the blasted thing instead of getting caught up in his own ideas, at least trying to learn more about the sword and if it could be useful in finding Buffy. As it stood, however, he knew very little about it.

But he knew someone who did, he realized, as well as someone who knew a hell of a lot more about Buffy than he did. She, in turn, also happened to have a whole network of people who were well-versed in magic and in werewolves. And they both were just a stone’s throw away. 

“I’m going back to the coven in Devon,” he announced. “I can Apparate there.” 

His mother, who had only been a few steps behind Ginny, stepped into the room at this. “You’ve only been there once, Bill, and it’s a ways away,” she hedged, obviously aware that her input may not be warmly received. “Are you certain it’s safe to Apparate?”

 

After giving his mother a hug to mend the rift between them once and for all, Bill nodded -- feeling only slightly guilty knowing that he was going to do it whether it was safe or not. 

“Absolutely. In the meantime, please ask Angelina to continue working on the spell when she returns. These books here are the ones she’ll need,” he explained. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If luck is on our side, I’ll have a few reinforcements with me.”

+++

Bill materialized on the outskirts of the coven property, close to where he had found Buffy after Greyback’s attack. He could’ve tried for a spot closer to the actual manor, but he was wary of the wards the Wiccans undoubtedly had in place.

Despite the fact that he had quite the hike to the main house, he set off in a sprint as soon as his feet were on solid ground, the sight of the setting sun providing more than enough motivation for him whenever he felt his energy start to flag. When the manor finally came into sight, he was overjoyed to see that the lights were on throughout the building. Though his legs were beginning to feel like they had been hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx and his lungs were about to burst, Bill raced up to the front door and knocked, taking heaving gasps of air as he waited for someone to answer. As the minutes ticked by, however, and his breathing returned to normal, no one came to the door. In fact, Bill couldn’t detect the slightest sound inside. 

Frowning, he pounded on the door again, this time more insistently. When that received no response, he let loose a Reductor Curse. 

It was a foolhardy move, one that sent him reeling backward as his spell was deflected by one protecting the door, but it finally got their attention. He heard heavy footfalls rushing toward him almost instantaneously. A moment later the door cracked open, and Bill could see the face of one Maris Figg staring back at him. 

“Bill Weasley!” she exclaimed. “We certainly weren’t expecting you. This is a rather unfortunate time for us, however, so perhaps you can come back--”

“Buffy’s in trouble. Greyback has her,” Bill cut in. “I need your help finding her, specifically Nora and Willow’s.” 

Maris became flustered at this. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid that’s not possible…”

“Why not?” he demanded. As he spoke, he wedged his foot in the door, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Oh, dear,” Maris fretted. “Just wait here a moment.” 

Bill nodded, taking the opportunity to fully enter the manor as Maris hurried away, leaving her post at the door. Knowing he was already pushing his luck, he didn’t venture any further, though he was sorely tempted to, particularly as each minute ticked by. 

Judging by the look on Nora’s face when she swept into the room fifteen agonizing minutes later with a distraught looking Maris following close on her heels, it had been a wise decision. 

“You must leave immediately,” the head of the coven ordered. “We extended our hospitality once. Do not make the mistake of assuming it will always be given.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bill apologized. “But the situation is dire. Buff--”

“I’m well aware of the situation. Maris filled me in,” Nora cut in. “But what you don’t understand is that we’re in the midst of a crisis of our own.”

That made Bill pause. Thinking quickly, he decided to try another tack. “At least let me talk to Willow, even if it’s for a minute. I just need to know how I can contact the rest of Buffy’s friends.”

Nora stared at him, her expression inscrutable as the seconds ticked by. Bill was about to make another plea when she finally spoke. “Do you know why there are hundreds of slayers in existence right now?”

“More or less,” Bill replied, unsure what she was getting at. 

“Then you may be aware that Willow and Willow alone is the key to keeping it that way. If something were to happen to her…” 

Bill blanched, immediately cottoning on to Nora’s meaning. “Is something wrong? Where is Willow? Is she involved in this crisis?” he demanded. 

Nora sighed, and for the first time since the conversation began, her hard exterior cracked. “She is… not doing well. The Activation Spell is draining her life force. We are doing the best we can to stop it, but it’s taking every single Wiccan here just to keep her alive. So as you can see, I do not have time for your troubles, nor does Willow.” 

“Can you at least tell me how to contact her friends?” Bill asked, unashamed of the desperation in his voice.

If she heard it, Nora was unmoved. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. If something happens to Willow, there is a chance they will lose their powers as well, leaving them extremely vulnerable, physically and emotionally. I cannot do that. Willow has put the needs of many over one by not allowing us to cancel the spell even at the risk of her own life, and I will honor her wish and do the same -- even if she will not forgive me for it.”

With that, she turned and left. 

Bill grit his teeth in frustration, but there was nothing he could do. Defeated, he turned and walked toward the door. 

“Bill, I’m sorry.” 

He turned and gave Maris a small smile. “It’s okay. Thank you for trying. And good luck. I hope Willow pulls through. If there’s anything I can do to help…” he trailed off, unsure what he could do, all things considered, but genuinely worried about Buffy’s friend nonetheless. 

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Maris reassured him. “You just focus on getting that sweet girl back. Willow is in good hands, especially since we have the moon in our favor tonight.” 

Bill nodded and left, once again setting off in a dead run as soon as he was outside. His only hope now was the blood magic spell. As soon as he entered Grimmauld Place, however, that hope was dashed as well, by Harry no less. 

“I’m sorry, Bill. We tried the spell while you were gone, and… it didn’t work.”

+++

A/N: Thoughts? :) 


End file.
